Shades of Truth
by teresa
Summary: Sometimes, the truth is hidden.  Sometimes it can be painful to find, but sometimes it is a wonderful thing.  A postwar Harry Potter story. COMPLETED!
1. Chapter 1

I've been working on this story for quite a while, and it's almost completely done, but I really wanted to post it before the seventh book comes out, so I decided I'd better get on that...

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Shades of Truth

Chapter 1

"Stop, Harry." A young woman with painstakingly maintained wavy brown hair rushed out into the corridor, reaching a slender hand out toward the only other person in the vicinity.

"Hermione," he sounded weary, and there were rings underneath his brilliant green eyes that confirmed this. Roughly pushing his hand through messy black hair, he turned to face her as though even that took a great deal of effort. "I'm doing this. I've got to."

"Harry, this is so stupid of you!" Hermione stamped a high-heeled foot down, making a sharp, satisfying noise that elicited a blink from her tall companion. "You are the _last_ person who is qualified to do this. The tension between you two has always—"

"I've _got_ to." His assertion was much clearer now, as though the tired voice before had only been an affectation. "Besides," he reverted to a softer tone, his face turning from her, "I've done it all properly. You can check yourself; I've got permission to do it my way."

"We both know _how_ you got that permission." Hermione hissed at him, "Using your fame like that, what would your parents think? What would Dumble—"

"He'd think it was about time I took control of the situation." Harry cut her off sharply, "And if you think I'm really so emotional, stop trying to make it worse. Just—just go home, Hermione. Let me do this."

"I shouldn't have…" she trailed off, and he resumed his journey toward the end of the corridor. "Wait, Harry, please. What's the point? He can't get much lower, and you aren't one to gloat. What's the point in trying to get more information? He'll rot in Azkaban as it is." He paused then, his hand on the doorknob, and let out a long sight.

"Justice." He told her, and his voice was hard, intractable, and so full of power she realized as though she had never known before, how this skinny young man had been the Hero of the Wizarding World. "Because I believe that _everyone_ should have justice." He left her in that corridor, worried for him and strangely concerned for the prisoner he was about to confront for the first time in a long time.

"Potter," the prisoner was slouching horribly, but as soon as he saw he had company, he did his best to appear dignified. His back became straight, he folded shackled hands in his lap, and pained eyes full of horrors that would not stop replaying became vacant and unreadable. His long unused voice was no more than a croak, and so he elected to remain silent after hearing it, rather than appear weak before someone who was so clearly, so thoroughly, his enemy.

"Malfoy," the greeting was engrained in Harry, something neither friendly nor really spiteful, just and acknowledgement, something that both of them had somehow needed since they were children. "I'm here to talk…to question you, that is."

The prisoner blinked silver-grey eyes at Harry, accepting his introduction, allowing him to continue. However, Harry waited for a while before going on. He knew Malfoy as someone who never missed his chance to insert a snarky comment, and this silence was rather disconcerting.

"I have recently come across some evidence against you." Harry continued eventually. Silence greeted this announcement. "And I am determined to find out the truth. So…don't make things difficult for me."

Finally, Malfoy opened his mouth, but he did not speak. He let out a long, horrible racking noise that was his best attempt at laughter. As he continued, his voice began to return to him, and finally, by the time he stopped completely, the hacking cacophony had transformed into a low, musical chuckle.

"You think this is a joke, Malfoy?" Harry demanded, annoyed at his former rival's behavior.

"Is it?" Malfoy countered, "Only _you_ would care enough to pin a few more charges on a damned man, Potter. Still bitter about Hogwarts? Grow up."

"The joke's on you, Malfoy." Harry leaned across the table then, so close he could smell the rank, musty stench of Azkaban on the other's skin, in his pale blonde hair, on his prison robes. "I'm here to get you out."

There was a moment of shocked disbelief that evaporated into desperate laughter once more. "Nice one, Potter, but I'm almost positive the world is a piece of cake to save next to me. You can't always be everyone's hero."

"I can save the people who are innocent." Harry replied. "I just need your help. Don't be a martyr, Draco."

"Malfoys create martyrs, they never become them." Draco shook his head slightly, a knowing sneer on his lips. "So then, I trust in your sickening goodness and you get whatever additional confessions you're looking for. I think not. Besides the fact that I feel quite damned enough, thank you, I'm going to tell you that I honestly don't remember whatever else you think I might have done. If I ever did, you must have knocked it out of me when you apprehended me so enthusiastically. I had a lump on my head for weeks, you know."

"I didn't recognize you then, Draco." He sighed deeply, "there were Death Eaters everywhere, and curses flying every which way, and you looked—"

"Like my father?" Draco beamed at him in a way that made Harry feel sick with guilt and the worry that this was all too little, too late. "How were you to know he was dead? It was an honest mistake."

"_Casualties of war aren't always the names on a memorial, or the etchings on a gravestone. Many of them walk among us."_

Harry gasped slightly at the words floating to the surface of his memory. He had thought he understood them then, but he realized now that he hadn't a clue.

"_Are you a casualty?"_

_Did I kill Draco Malfoy that day? Can I still save him, or is he already gone? Can he ever be more than the damaged shadow of an unwanted memory? Will he hate me for trying to help? Will Ron?_

"_Are you a casualty?"_

"_Life is not meant to be a punishment, Potter, it's an opportunity. Dumbledore taught me that."_

"Draco, don't you wonder why you killed him?" Harry's voice was so soft that Draco wondered whether he had heard the other man correctly or not.

"My father?" Draco's voice cracked on the second word, and he hated himself for showing such vulnerability. "Why wonder? He was an utter bastard, and he wasn't going to win any Loving Father awards, I can tell you that. He made me what I am."

"But you loved him." Harry tacked on, and Draco looked at him as though he had lost his mind completely.

"I _killed_ him, Potter." He spoke slowly, as though he wasn't sure Harry understood that bit of things.

"But you loved him." Harry insisted.

"So what?!" Draco slammed his manacled hands on the table. "Doesn't that make me more horrible, more cold-blooded, that I killed my own _father_?!"

"Your mother swears you never could have done it." Harry felt himself calm down now that Draco was getting worked up. He had been afraid emotion would have abandoned Draco utterly at this point.

"My mother has no one else left. Of course she would want me free, want me declared innocent." He rolled his eyes. "She can convince herself of anything if she wants it badly enough. Why do you think she never divorced my father?"

"Do you honestly believe you could have killed him?" Harry pressed onward. "Malfoy, think about it. You know it wouldn't be the first memory ever modified. Yes, he was an asshole, and he might not have been a _great_ father, but he was your father. Can you tell me why you killed him? You remember doing it, but do you remember _why_?"

"I…" this seemed to confuse Malfoy quite a bit. "I just _did_, okay? It isn't as though I'd be the first evil bastard to kill his father."

"I have a hard time believing that the boy I knew, the one who couldn't bring himself to kill an enemy, even to save his neck and his family and win himself all the glory he ever craved, could turn around a year later and become a ruthless Death Eater who killed a dozen people, not the least of which was your own father." Harry shook his head slowly. "You were never a saint, Malfoy, but you never had it in you to kill someone."

"How…how did you?..." Draco had gone even paler than usual at the reference to his botched murder attempt.

"I was there, Draco, under my Invisibility Cloak. Dumbledore had the full-body bind on me, so I got to watch it all, but I couldn't do a thing." Harry suddenly felt twenty years older. "Look, I'm going to be back tomorrow. I want you to think about what I've said."

"Potter?" the voice was suddenly unsure as Harry turned to leave. "Can I ask…why are you doing this? I thought you hated me."

"I suppose I may have, once. You certainly gave me a hard time at Hogwarts." Harry shrugged as he turned to face Draco, his hand resting on the doorknob. "But I've forgiven people for much worse. And the night that Dumbledore died, I realized that we aren't so very different. What would _I_ have done if Voldemort was threatening my parents, or the Weasleys, or anyone I care about? And now, I think that Dumbledore knew what was going to happen that night. I think he froze me so I could see, so I could understand, because he knew I could help you, and he knew you would help me as well." And Harry left as Draco puzzled over the question of exactly when he had ever helped Harry Potter.

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"Harry," Hermione was waiting for him as he reached the bleak entrance of Azkaban. Her tone was soft, but her face told him she wouldn't be deterred this time. Sometimes Harry wished she would simply trust in him to know what he was doing, trust that he would do what was right. But that was Ron, the friend that questioned him rarely, and who could almost always be satisfied with "because I said" as a logical line of reasoning. Hermione needed _more_. Harry supposed that there were times when she had saved him from making horrible mistakes. Times when she would have as well, if he had only listened to her. And that knowledge was the reason he listened to her even now, when he _knew_ he was right, but also knew that if he began to explain, she would ask questions that he could not give her answers to. Not now. Perhaps not ever.

"Hermione, I'm sorry I was short with you, but I wish you could just believe in me enough to know that I know what I'm doing is right." He told her wearily, knowing it would have very little effect on her at this point.

"Harry, you always have good intentions, but that doesn't necessarily mean you're doing the best thing. Think of Ginny." Hermione said it as gently as she could, but the blood still drained from Harry's face as he froze mid-stride.

"Hermione," he said her name in a warning tone. He didn't want to fight this battle right now.

"Do you really think you were protecting her? Do you think they didn't know how you felt?" she pushed onward recklessly as Harry was forced to bite back the impotent rage that always rose within him when he thought of his failure to protect the one person he had most wanted to.

"This has nothing to do with Ginny." He clenched his fists so tightly he felt his nails bite into his palms painfully.

"Don't be stupid, Harry. If it isn't about her, who is it about? He did horrible things, we all know that. He killed people we cared about like it meant nothing to him. He killed people _he_ cared about. He lost it, Harry. I know he seems the same to you, but there is no way he would ever have done those things otherwise. I don't think we'll ever know what happened to make him go so wrong, but you're going to have to see you can't bring any of them back now. They're gone. And Draco's already received his punishment. Move on, Harry, you're better than this." She had tears in her eyes as she spoke.

"Hermione, I just want the truth. If Dumbledore were still here, he'd be doing the same thing." Harry sighed deeply, hoping she'd accept his vague explanations, because he'd never be able to lie convincingly, and she'd hate him if she knew the truth. Not to mention what Ron would think.

"If you'd just tell me what this is about…we could work it out together the way we used to." She looked at him hopefully, and for a moment, all he wanted was to tell her everything and to have her support. If she knew the whole story…

But no, he'd sworn he wouldn't. And he couldn't break his word. He couldn't.

"You'll know once it all comes together." He told her. "But I'd rather do this alone. Alright?"

Hermione stared at him for a long time as he tried to deflect her gaze. It was clear that she was trying to read the truth in his face, as he'd always had such a hard time hiding his emotions. But that was a long time ago. He'd learned a lot since then, and this wasn't something so simple as anything he might have concealed in the past.

Finally, she turned away from him. "I just wish you'd stop being Harry Potter, Lonesome Hero, and remember Harry Potter, Trusting Friend. I'm still here for you. So is Ron."

"I know," he shook his head abruptly, "But once in awhile, I have to remember not to drag you two into every mess I stumble into." And with that, he turned and walked away.

To be continued…


	2. Chapter 2

Shades of Truth

Chapter 2

"You came back." Draco's voice was flat, but contained the slightest hint of shock.

"I said I would." Harry replied, sitting down across from the other man again after setting down his bag and unpacking parchment, quill, and ink. "Did you still think this was all a joke?" Draco only shrugged in answer to his question, so Harry pressed on. "In any case, I thought we could work through all the cases individually and see what turns up. The first death would be Fleur Delacour's."

"I think she and I could have got along famously in different circumstances." Draco offered, "She had impeccable hair." Harry gave him a pained smile before moving along.

"According to the file, you tortured her for information, and then you used Avada Kedavra on her."

"Yes, a shame, that." Draco sighed deeply. "I suppose she might have lived if she just hadn't been captured in the first place."

"Who captured her?" Harry asked in an almost casual tone.

"My father spotted her when he was secretly meeting with a Ukrainian Death Eater who had some information for us. He was well disguised and was able to catch her unaware." Draco answered easily.

"Your father caught her and you tortured her?" Harry continued his line of questioning, scribbling down notes on the piece of parchment in front of him. Draco opened his mouth and shut it again as he searched for a viable explanation of when the prisoner had changed hands. "What if I told you I have seen Fleur's murder, and that you weren't even in the room when it happened?"

"But…who would set me up as Fleur's killer, and why?" Draco finally asked.

"Have you ever seen an angry pack of veela?" Harry asked. "That's reason enough. But I think there's something else. Here," he dug into the bag he'd set on the ground when he first came in and pulled out a large bowl with runes all around the edges.

"A Pensieve." Draco recognized the object at once, "My father had one of those, though I don't know what's come of it now. Where'd you get that one?"

"Dumbledore left it to me." Harry had a flashback then of Remus Lupin, his eternally sad smile in place as he handed Harry the precious magical object.

"_It was in his will, Harry, he was quite specific. And here," Lupin produced two vials of silvery-white memory from his robes. "He told us these were yours as well. For your eyes only, so I can't tell you what they contain or even whose mind they come from. He wanted you to swear you would show them to no one."_

He'd sworn, of course, and watched both memories enough times that he felt as if they were his own. But he'd told no one what he'd seen. It would make very little difference now, in any case. Some people refused to be saved. But Draco would be different.

"And here's my proof," Harry pulled a memory from his pocket and emptied it into the Pensieve. "Come along, then." And with one last searching look at the other man, Draco plunged into the memory of the last moments of Fleur Delacour.

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"Bring her out." Draco's eyes flew open wide at the voice, a voice he never thought he'd hear again.

"Father," he gasped, but then shook his head sharply and turned to see Harry Potter beside him, solemn, silent, and just as much a spectator as Draco was. He offered no comment on Draco's disorientation, his momentary total lack of composure, and Draco felt grateful for that.

"You fiend," he turned as a girl, stunningly beautiful even with grime in her hair, blood on her hands, and bruises on her cheeks, was led out by a silent, masked Death Eater. They were all of them concealing their faces, but Draco could still recognize most of them by their voices or postures. There was Nott senior, wiry and somber as his son. There was the cruel laugh of Macnair, the constant mumbling and fidgeting of Avery. In the early days of the war, strong caution had been exercised, as most of them didn't fancy another trip to Azkaban if things went sour once more. Most didn't have to worry, because Draco knew that most of the people in this room would die before having a chance to be captured and go to trial. "You weel never get away with zis! You believe zose masks hide your sins? Even if I die, I die with a smile knowing I was on ze side of good! You fight for nothing! Voldemort weel die, and you weel all fall!" Some of the Death Eaters shifted uncomfortably as her passionate tirade continued, and Draco was impressed by how a bound, beaten, and filthy prisoner still could so resemble an avenging angel.

"Enough, Miss Delacour." Lucius Malfoy's voice overpowered hers, and she turned to him, her eyes flaming and her chin tilted upward in pride. "I will give you one last chance. Be sensible. You have veela blood in your veins, and you must know a great number of your kind have already joined the Dark Lord. You have no Muggle blood, and yet look at how you protect them so fiercely. If they knew what you were, they would despise you, torture you, and tear you apart to learn all your secrets." There was a pause as he awaited her reaction and she only continued to glare at him haughtily. "Well? What do you say to that, Miss Delacour?"

"I say you may address me as Mrs. Weasley, you slimy piece of filth!" and she spat a spectacular shot right on his mask.

"I don't believe you will be able to attend your wedding, Miss Delacour, if you continue to resist us. Don't make this hard on yourself, my dear. Would you really put those blood traitors above your own family?" Lucius stood over her as some lesser Death Eater wiped the spit from his mask.

"You dirty 'ypocrite. You expect me to be touched by ze sentimentality of a man 'oo would not hesitate to cast aside his only child in favor of his master?" furious tears spilled down her cheeks, etching pristine tracks in her porcelain skin. Draco was not sure whether she was sad she would be dying, afraid no one would save her, infuriated with Lucius, or possibly a combination of all three.

"There may be hope for Draco yet, despite his failings. Do not look down at me as though you are faultless, Miss Delacour. It is not always as simple as black and white. All of us must spend time in the grey. Think of your sister, Fleur." Lucius leaned closer to her, as though he would kiss her through his mask. "Do you not worry for her wellbeing?"

"I fight to protect Gabrielle and all zat is good, fool! Zere is no grey area in zis!" Fleur's tears were still streaming, but though Draco was sure she had given herself up for dead, she continued to fight.

"After the Ministry sees how many veela have joined our side, your family will risk persecution unless you let the Dark Lord take you under his wing." Lucius sounded almost as though he cared, but Draco knew better than that. His father had never cared about being thought of as a kind man.

"My sister weel be glad I died a 'ero, my name in books and songs. You die a coward, too stupid to see money and power weel not protect your soul!" Fleur hissed, and she turned her powerful gaze on the other seven Death Eaters present in the memory, all of them Draco knew to be dead except for his mother, the only other woman present, her fair hair just visible under the edge over her hood in the flickering torch light. None of them seemed to realize how very near their own ends they were. Only Wormtail was shivering as though chilled to the heart, but he had always been timid. "I regret nothing! Can any of you face death as bravely?"

"Foolish girl, none of us shall die." Lucius laughed at her, and deep chuckles echoed from Crabbe and Goyle senior, as much his shadows as their sons had been Draco's. "We devour death and spit it out. Only those who oppose us die." And then his wand was out, and without further delay, he struck her down with the killing curse.

"Oh dear, I thought you'd let Draco have another go at it. I'm sure he just needed to concentrate a bit more." His mother's voice always sounded sweet to Draco's ears, though he realized that most people heard it as cold and hard.

"No, I think that a beautiful girl full of poetic lies was really too much for him as a first kill. She inspired too much sympathy." Lucius nudged Fleur's crumpled form with one toe. "But I believe our son will soon find himself cured of such weak-hearted hesitance to do the Dark Lord's bidding." The assembled group began to disperse, and with a sharp nod, Harry pulled Draco back out of the memory swirling harmlessly within the Pensieve.

"Whose memory was that?" Draco finally asked after a long silence. "And who modified my memory?"

"As for the first question, I can't tell you the answer for sure. It was given to me by a friend who told me that it was true, but who would not tell me where they had gotten it from. I have my suspicions, but nothing more than that. I have something else you should see, though. It should answer the second question for you." And Harry produced a second vial, a very small one. After rebottling the memory of Fleur's death, he emptied this new memory into the Pensieve, though it made a very small puddle, being as it was such a short memory. Draco was very curious to enter it, and did not even wait for Harry to prompt him this time.

He found himself in a cold, dank place, and by the time his eyes adjusted to the lack of light, Harry was beside him. Something about this memory made Draco break out in a cold sweat, though he though it might be because he recognized the setting. He was in the dungeons below Malfoy Manor. When he was a child, he had been sent here whenever he misbehaved. He particularly recalled a fortnight spent in a cell living off bread and water as punishment for breaking n heirloom vase while playing in the dining room. He had been six, and still terrified of the dark at the time.

_Malfoys don't play._

As he had grown, so had the severity of the punishments as Lucius attempted to find new ways to imprint lessons indelibly on Draco, who found himself becoming colder and less affected by the simplicity of solitary confinement after some time. He still recalled that throughout his career at Hogwarts, Lucius would lock him in a cell and cast the Cruciatus Curse on him each day, for a number of days that equaled the number of exams he did not finish first in.

_Malfoys are never second place._

Doubtless, this particular punishment bred within him a hatred for Hermione Granger above and beyond what he was raised to feel toward people of Muggle parentage. It had taken him years to forgive her for being smarter than him, and it would doubtless take many more years before he could bring himself to admit it.

"Are you okay, Malfoy?" Harry's breath was hot on his ear, the only bit of warmth in this horrid place. "We won't be long."

"I'm fine." He told the other, regulating his breathing and thinking of how he suddenly missed his nice cell in Azkaban. But now he saw a torch and heard voices, and there was his father with Severus Snape and that horrid Wormtail. And Draco saw in the new light that they were just outside a cell, and inside, cowering, gibbering, sobbing, was a lump that horrifyingly, undeniably himself. But Draco could not recall…

"Whose—" he began, but Harry shushed him so he could hear the words of the approaching trio.

"—seems to have backfired, and now he's less useful than ever." Snape's droll voice finished.

"The Dark Lord has no use for sniveling cowards." Wormtail offered his opinion eagerly.

"I don't know about that, he seemed to find a use for you, Wormtail." Lucius' voice was sharp and venomous, a snake strike. "But then, being Severus' handmaid is hardly the most crucial of tasks."

"I'd do better to buy an old mutt. It would eat and speak less, and do more, I'm sure. Certainly the smell would be an improvement." Snape snickered. "And I could certainly trust its loyalty more readily."

"And there he is," Lucius sighed as though full of heavy disappointment. "Draco, I had such hopes for you, and yet you lie quivering, in such a mess over a pretty face. You _had_ to kill her, there was no choice." Lucius rested a gloved hand on the bars and looked down at his son before turning to Snape. "I'll simply have to wait until he calms and wipe the memory of regret from him. I'll paint him a memory of commendations, of glory and praise. He is a simple boy, after all. I know what he wishes for most deeply."

"If I may, Lucius, too _many_ modifications could cause the boy permanent damage if you are not cautious and precise." Snape interjected as the trio turned to leave and the sound of their conversation faded until it left only the broken sobbing of Draco.

"Let's leave," Harry's voice was subdued as he grabbed Draco's hand and he realized suddenly that he had moved, as if drawn to this past version of himself he had no memory of, his hands clutching the bars of his own cell as he stared down at himself in shame and regret, wondering why it had been this way, wishing his father had known him better.

_The thing I wanted most was to be loved._

To be continued…


	3. Chapter 3

Shades of Truth

Chapter 3

"So," Harry shuffled around various pieces of parchment and unconsciously bit the end of his quill thoughtfully. "Now we're going to try and make sense of the Three Broomsticks."

"Not that mess." Draco groaned and slumped back in his chair, secretly happy that at least they wouldn't be making any trips to the Malfoy dungeons again. Anywhere but there, and he'd be able to maintain his composure, he felt sure. "Can't we just skip the proof and say that I was away on a vacation that week? Honestly, it was complete chaos. You were there, right?"

"I wasn't there for the beginning, but we Apparated to Hogsmeade once we were notified that there was an attack in process." He sighed heavily as he lifted one piece of parchment and began scanning the sheet. "By the time I got there, things were completely out of control. Reports say that it started as a flash strike, but that the Death Eaters' escape was cut off because the proprietor had recently had Order members place some anti-Apparation protections on the establishment in the hopes of preventing just such an attack…well, that worked out well."

"So, I was there, right?" Draco asked Harry after a pause. "Only, after…what you showed me last time, I'm having a hard time knowing which of my memories are real and which aren't."

"No, you were there," Harry answered. "I saw you hiding under a table."

"Oh, great." Draco rubbed at his face in frustration. "Can't we just go with my vacation idea?"

"If it makes you feel better, you didn't hide the entire time. You helped get Pansy Parkinson out of there after she was hit by a stray spell." Harry informed him. "It was her only battle, if I recall correctly. She's fine, now, by the way."

"At least she got out early." Draco didn't seem too comforted by the report of his chivalry. "Pansy was always more of a strategist than an actual front-line soldier. Unfortunately, it seemed that the Dark Lord only wanted to use his younger recruits as cannon fodder."

"Apparently, she has some information on what happened to two of your alleged victims, and I've scheduled a meeting with her, in the hopes that she'll trust me with her story and maybe even her memory." Harry continued while fishing for a vial of memory in his robes. "In the meantime, I've gotten this anonymous donation."

"You seem to get a lot of those." Draco made a face at him, "do you just have a drop box down Diagon Alley with a 'Help Free Draco! Donate Your Memories!' sign posted next to it? Or did you really never get over all that cloak and dagger stuff from the war?"

"Sorry, I'd tell you who gave it to me, but it doesn't really matter, does it? Unless someone else is willing to come forward with unmodified memories showing _you_ actually killing Seamus Finnegan, all we've got to go on is this against your clearly highly modified memory." Harry shrugged and emptied the vial into his ready Pensieve. "You ready?"

"As ever." Draco and he plunged into the memory.

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"Get down!"

"Over here!"

"Come back!"

"I have you now!"

"He's there," Harry leaned in to make sure Draco would hear him over the general madness that surrounded them. Even though it was a memory, and utterly harmless, he'd experienced a moment of utter panic when they dropped down in the middle of a dozen different duels, made only more confusing by the fleeing of witches and wizards on both sides. "And there you are, see?"

"Alright, thanks for that." Draco flushed to see that he was indeed hiding under a table, "I see you haven't flown in to save the day yet with your trusty sidekicks."

"We arrived after Seamus had been killed. Come on; let's get closer to where it's going to happen." Harry grabbed Draco's elbow and helped him move toward Seamus Finnegan, who was currently doing a rather good show of dueling Crabbe senior while his back was protected by Dean Thomas, who was dueling the much more formidable Bellatrix Lestrange. Draco could tell just by the look on his face that Bellatrix was not one of Harry's favorite women, but then he recalled years ago, hearing a recounting of the battle at the ministry, where she had taken great pride in killing Harry's godfather, whom he had failed to avenge immediately.

_But this was her last battle, if I recall. Though I don't remember hearing who took her out. It could have been Potter…_

And then, Dean suddenly seemed to gain the upper hand in his battle, just as Seamus landed a successful Stunner (truth be told, he'd already landed two, it just took a lot to put that man down) on Crabbe senior, who tumbled to the ground in a massive heap. And there was Lavender Brown, carrying an incapacitated Parvati Patil on her back, appearing as if out of nowhere and immediately tripping over the mass of man. Seamus dropped his wand as he lunged out to stop them cracking their heads on the floor, and Draco wanted to shout out, because Bellatrix had just Stunned Dean Thomas so hard he knocked a table over, and wasn't it a miracle _he'd_ survived?

It was as if everything was going in slow motion, and Draco felt he was going to be sick, but prayed he could keep it down in front of Potter. Did he really have to see it happen? If he closed his eyes, would it make Seamus any less doomed? One moment the boy had that stupid Heroic Gryffindor grin on his face, and he was offering to carry Parvati so Lavender could go back to the fight or escape, whichever she planned, and then Draco saw her pretty face change into a gape of horror and he realized that she saw his aunt as well, knew what was about to happen, and she screamed the beginning of a warning, but it was really too late. He had no wand, his back was turned, and anyways, his arms were full of unconscious Gryffindor girl. But out of nowhere, a stray Stunner nearly nailed Bellatrix, and in that extra moment, he bundled Parvati back into Lavender's arms, scooped up his wand and turned to face the Death Eater.

Draco felt stupid for getting so worked up, but then, just as Lavender raced for the door, and Seamus aimed his wand to let loose his first spell, he was silenced by a bolt of green, as Bellatrix was obviously sick of toying with him and wanted to get back to her master before she could be captured. She darted for the door, but was caught up almost immediately in another duel as Seamus fell to the ground, eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling. And Ginny Weasley had clearly seen it, because she rushed over, tears brimming from brilliant blue eyes, her hair flying like fire in the heat of battle. She bent over him to be sure that he wasn't just unconscious, and Draco suddenly noticed that Harry was staring pointedly in another direction.

Right. Ginny Weasley. That had to be a sore point.

Awkward, considering he remembered killing her in this battle. But then, he supposed that was another bit of his father's helpful editing, considering he had absolutely no recollection of cowering under a table for the duration of the fight.

"Let's go," he was the one who pulled them back out this time, and for several minutes after they returned, he didn't bother to even attempt conversation with Harry, who was pale and looked as though he didn't even know where he was. Finally, he coughed awkwardly and began shuffling papers together, not quite meeting Draco's eyes.

"I'm sorry," Harry spoke after a prolonged silence. "I…didn't really want to go to that battle. I knew what I'd see, but I still…I don't like watching my friends die."

"Nor do I." Draco admitted, "And we weren't even friends, Finnegan and I." Draco stopped himself when he realized he was babbling in an attempt to change the subject about what they were likely both thinking of.

"Well," Harry forced one of the worst excuses for a smile Draco had ever seen before he stood with his gathered belongings. "I'll be back as soon as I can get news from Pansy."

"Tell her I said hello. And tell her she never visits, which isn't very thoughtful." Draco answered, feeling faintly stupid as he said it, but it elicited a genuine smile, which was worth it, really.

"I will." Harry swept out of the room, and was replaced by a pair of guards to march him back to his cell.

----------

Harry was on his third coffee refill, and was beginning to make little towers of creamer pouches when Pansy finally arrived at their appointed meeting place, a little over forty minutes late.

"Sorry to be late." She apologized without sounding like she meant it as he rose to shake her hand and they both took their seats. "I was delayed."

"Don't worry about it." Harry inclined his head to one side, knowing that she had only been partway down Diagon Alley this entire time, working with some client or other. After many failed applications, she had been given a job as Madame Malkins' assistant after dropping out of the Death Eaters before even receiving her mark. Harry knew what the atmosphere in the wizarding world was toward anyone even slightly associated with Voldemort. Though he was utterly dead, people were so worried about some third rising that they treated those who had survived and not been imprisoned as utter pariahs.

_If I'm able to get Draco's name clear, what sort of life will he be left with? At least in Azkaban he isn't attacked on the street, he's treated roughly like any other prisoner._

It was true that some people suspected of Death Eater activity but never imprisoned were now at risk simply walking down Diagon Alley or strolling through Hogsmeade. Madame Rosmerta, despite Harry's best attempts to preach the power of forgiveness, would refuse all of them patronage. As such, they were often hard to track down, though Pansy, having had such a brief brush with the dark side, was relatively capable of a public life. Most of them were in hiding, living off of what fortunes they had left after the government helped itself to the better portion as "reparations."

"How is he?" Harry saw in her eyes that he was wrong to worry she would not come to their meeting. Whatever their history in school or in the war, he was her only possibility of seeing Draco again, and it was no secret how she adored him since they were children. "I mean to say, is he treated well? Does he want for anything?"

"I've seen him looking better, to tell you the truth." Harry was not going to lie to her. He was demanding complete honesty from her, and he would give her nothing less in return. "Azkaban is no summer resort, but at least he's looking better than he would be if we hadn't been able to get rid of the Dementors."

"If _you_ hadn't been able to get rid of them, you mean." She gave a smile then, a faded approximation of the memory he had of her taunting smirk from their school years. "Don't be so modest, Mr. Potter."

"Please, Pansy, there's no need for formalities." He leaned forward slightly after her coffee was left by the proprietor, "To tell you the truth, every time someone calls me that, I feel like they've mistaken me for someone twenty years older and ten times smarter."

"Alright then, as you like it, Potter." She made a face, "I'm sorry, I never really called you Harry."

"No need, that's good enough." He smiled at her as she emptied three packets of cream in her coffee. "Not to switch gears abruptly, but I was told you could supply the truth of a portion of the Three Broomsticks Raid."

"Ah," she had just ripped open a packet of sugar so sharply it had spilled in her lap. She brushed the grains away, blushing. "Yes, yes I definitely saw what happened to two of Draco's supposed victims. And he, the whole time, under a table."

Harry chuckled at this. "Yeah, he was rather displeased to hear the truth of it. But I did tell him how he carried you to safety." He assured her.

"Draco is a good man," she set down the sugar packet she held and leaned forward, as though willing him to take her at her word. "He's no coward, but he's no monster either. He's just as human as you or I."

"I know. He's stronger than you think," Harry let her know. "Not many people could survive what he's been through."

"Let me ask you something, Potter," Pansy left off stirring her coffee for a moment to give him a very exacting stare. "What is this for you? A game? A challenge? A distraction? Your next great mission? Is Draco a symbol or something like that to you? Do you think saving one Death Eater is a way to show the world how powerful you are?"

"I just think everyone should have a fair shot." He answered, feeling vaguely embarrassed by the intensity of her gaze. "No matter what their name is, no matter what a snarky prat they were in school."

"Innocent until proven otherwise?" she rested her cheek in one well-manicured hand.

"Exactly." Harry took a deep breath, trying to think of the words to explain what he intended for Draco. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to save him, or that I don't sometimes wish I could go back and save others that I feel weren't given their due. I can't say that he was my friend or that he ever will be. But I understand him, somehow, and I can't just watch while someone like that is smashed out of our lives." He chuckled and toyed with an empty creamer packet. "I know that probably sounds stupid, I've never been great with words."

"No, I know what you mean." He looked up to see a look he had never seen on her face before, a warm smile. "He can be spoiled rotten, and a royal pain, but he gets under your skin and you can't just cast him aside." There was a long silence. "I'll help you."

"Thank you, you don't know what this means to Draco." Harry helped her extract the memory right there in the corner café, bottling the silvery substance and placing it in his bag for safekeeping.

"I know there's no way I can get in to see him." Pansy grinned ruefully as they stood to part. "Please, if you could give him something personal from me?"

"Anything you'd like." Harry agreed, and she lunged forward, hugging him so tightly he was shocked into speechlessness just as she pulled back and kissed his cheek.

"You can keep that last bit for yourself, I suppose." She spoke in a low tone, winking at him. "Don't tell anyone I said this, Potter, but with you on his side, I know I'll be able to see Draco again, and for that, I'd give you a lot more than a peck on the cheek."

"Uh…" Harry didn't really know how to respond to this, but before he could think of anything she had one parting shot.

"Blaise Zabini saw Ginny go." And there was really nothing he could say to that. By the time his mind started working again, he was already home.

To be continued…


	4. Chapter 4

Shades of Truth

Chapter 4

"How was your visit with Pansy?" Draco asked as Harry set out his Pensieve carefully, arranging ink and parchment just so.

"She misses you." Harry replied, flushing slightly. "She wishes she could come see you herself."

"What is she up to, these days?" he asked in a casual tone.

"Assistant to Madame Malkin." Harry answered as he set down the vial he had recovered from her. "She's doing her best, considering everything."

"I bet she gets all the robes she wants." Draco sighed as though the thought of new robes to him was as enticing as the thought of freedom. Of course, he'd likely not had new robes since long before his capture. "I take it that's from her? Rather large, isn't it?"

"We've got two deaths on this one." Harry told him. "I haven't had a chance to check it out myself, so I thought we'd both take a look together. I knew Pansy wouldn't give a bunch of rubbish if it was for your sake."

"Yes, she was always rather fond of me." Draco sighed heavily as though he'd rather not delve into that subject anymore, so Harry decided to push onward.

"She also gave me the name of someone who saw one of the other deaths at the Three Broomsticks." Draco knew from the discomfort in Harry's tone whose death it was that they would be looking into after these two. But no reason to aggravate him excessively. "Blaise Zabini."

"Good luck with that." Draco snorted slightly. "I think the only thing he really respected was his mirror. I could never rely on him, and I heard the Dark Lord had the same trouble."

"You'd be surprised how many people want to help you, Draco." Harry replied, and they fell into an awkward silence. "Well then, no time like the present."

He poured the vial into his Pensieve and they both entered the Three Broomsticks once more.

----------

"Ah, there you are." Draco pointed across the scene, a wide grin on his face as soon as they entered the memory of the chaotic battle. "Very dashing, Potter." And there was Harry's past self, his hair a mess, as always, his robes swirling about him as he rushed around, aiding the wounded and those losing their duels. "I don't remember you cutting so fine a figure in battle. No wonder you got to be in charge of your side."

"Don't start in on me. You're still under your table, if you take a look." Harry pointed to a nearby dark huddle with a bright blonde head. "But this is what we came for. See her?" and he led Draco's attention to a wide-eyed blonde somehow holding her own against his Aunt Bellatrix, who again seemed to be having a hard time getting out of the pub.

"How long after the last one is this?" Draco asked, and Harry shrugged, looking around, not seeing Seamus lying where he had been, or Dean's unconscious form either.

"Probably five or ten minutes. I remember this happened just after I arrived." He was doing his best to look casual, but Draco could tell it was tearing him apart to relive this battle. But it was for _his_ sake. Draco's fingers slid through Harry's, as much to receive comfort as to give it back. And just then, Luna's wand flew out of her hand, but it wasn't Bellatrix who struck the killing blow. Her husband Rodolphus came out of seemingly nowhere, and shot a bolt of green at the girl so suddenly Draco almost thought he had missed the entire thing. As she crumpled to the floor, he saw his aunt being hit by a large number of Stunners all at once, flip head over feet, and land with a sickening crunch in a heap some five feet from where she'd been standing.

"Who even…" Draco shook his head, there had to have been at least five or six spells at once there, but he'd only seen the one coming from Dean Thomas, back on his feet, and just behind where they were standing to observe. "Rotten luck for her."

"I shot one of them." Harry admitted, and it was clear that even after all she'd done, it pained him to have a part in her death, as it was obvious the fall had broken her neck. Certainly, it had been a result of all the Stunners, but at least they weren't going about flinging Killing Curses left and right. Unlike Rodolphus, who'd just fired off another bolt of green, seemingly at random, that left Neville Longbottom, one of his wife's many attackers, in a heap. "So did Neville, Hermione, Lupin, and I think I saw Ginny get one off. Hers were always pretty massive."

"Don't be upset. Honestly, the woman was my aunt and I knew she was evil." Draco tried to offer. "I think her goal in life was to get as many people as possible to have a good reason to want her dead."

"It's not that." Harry breathed heavily, as though something heavy was pressing against his chest. "Seeing them die like that, so quickly, like they weren't even here to begin with…I know you didn't know them at all, and you made Neville's life miserable in school, but you should have seen him go from klutz to valued Order member. I don't know, maybe it's just seeing someone you've known so long die…or something…"

"Hey," Draco squeezed his hand momentarily. "Let's leave here." And they were suddenly back in Azkaban, the air cold and musty, but somehow refreshing after the oppressive atmosphere of the battle. "You know, you don't have to go in them with me. We could get someone not so…close to them." His voice was soft, and it stung Harry deeply to know that he would be sleeping alone in a cell tonight, and perhaps for the rest of his life, yet he was more worried that Harry might be uncomfortable revisiting events of the war.

"I don't have to like it, but this is helping me as well, though I'm sure it doesn't seem that way now." Harry told him, letting go of his hand and moving to repack his belongings. "It helps to know what really happened to all of them." He shuffled a few papers around before looking up, his eyes shining with tears he refused to shed. "I'm sorry."

"How do you mean?" Draco was mystified.

"About your aunt." Harry continued. "I hated her, I'll admit that, for all the things she did, but I shouldn't have…"

"No, trust me, she was at least as crazy as the Dark Lord, it's better this way." Draco answered immediately.

"Pansy was right about you." Harry set his folder down scrubbing an anxious hand through his hair. "You're a good man."

"Don't listen to her," Draco advised, "She was always blinded to my nature by my staggering good looks." Harry laughed at that, and it was so great to hear the sound that Draco began laughing as well, and it was a long time before they left off.

"I'd better go, wouldn't want to keep Blaise waiting." Harry shoved his Pensieve back in its case before Draco rose to shake his hand. "I almost forgot," and before he could lose his nerve, he engulfed the emaciated prisoner in a fierce hug. "Pansy asked me to give you this." And somehow, he even had the courage to kiss the corner of Draco's mouth before fleeing the room.

----------

"Was the meeting agreeable?" a voice drifted from the study as Harry collapsed on the couch after returning home from his appointment with Blaise, the memory tucked in his robes.

"Which one?" Harry groaned, wishing he'd met Blaise at a restaurant. He was famished and in no mood to make dinner. "I had to pay Blaise for his memory. Ridiculous. Talk about no loyalty between school mates."

"Just because they were in the same house did not make them blood brothers." The voice replied, not even bothering to come into the same room as him, which was rather typical, but Harry had gotten used to the affectations of his house guest.

"But I can't think of a single Gryffindor who wouldn't help me this way if they had the opportunity." Harry frowned. "Although maybe I overestimate my own popularity."

"No, you don't." the voice chuckled slightly, a harsh sound. "But Draco Malfoy was no Gryffindor, and Slytherins are a different sort."

"Well, I know they can be…"

"Conniving? Deceptive? Devastatingly ambitious?" the voice supplied various choices and Harry heard a weak laugh come from his own mouth.

"Yeah, I guess you're right." Harry sighed. "I just hope I'm not forced to pay off everyone else I need help from. Blaise ­_did_ tell me that another of Draco's housemates has the truth of what happened to Lavender Brown to offer."

"Which one?"

"Theodore Nott." Harry answered, standing up and stretching. He may as well make a start on dinner. His guest would sit in the study all night. Probably wouldn't even sleep or eat ever if Harry didn't almost forcibly suggest it. "I don't remember him very well, other than that he was rather tall and skinny, and I don't think I ever heard him string two words together. I don't even recall him being a part of the Death Eaters, or being at that battle, but I suppose he was always good at passing by without drawing undue amounts of attention. I assume he'll want a fat purse as well, seeing as I never remember him backing up Draco in school. Why should he start now, being Slytherin, as you put it?"

"To the contrary," the voice sounded amused. "Theodore Nott may surprise you. I had him pegged as a carbon copy of his father, who was very silent and somber at his age as well, but the big difference was that Theodore never felt the need to be accepted by his peers. He did what he thought best suited him."

"Okay, yeah, I'll probably have to pay him more than Zabini." Harry groaned. "It's not as if I'm poor, but it's still irritating. You'd think Draco would have inspired a bit more loyalty in his peers."

"Not everyone worshipped him the way Parkinson did, and despite you attempts to make it so, he was never anything like you."

"That's where you're wrong." Harry answered, storming to the kitchen. "He's more like me than he was ever like you."

"You sting me." But there was no follow up, and Harry busied himself making dinner for two.

To be Continued…


	5. Chapter 5

Shades of Truth

Chapter 5

"Potter, I've been thinking," Draco started in on the words he'd been rehearsing since the last time he saw Harry, "we already know these people are dead. If we're assuming that I didn't kill any of them, can't we just get some neutral third party to check out the memories for verification? Not that seeing the battles bothers me or anything, but no one is going to believe me at my word, and we're going to have to display the relevant bits to the Wizengamot in any case to get me freed, so there's no reason you should have to watch all your friends get killed from a front row seat. I understand that you want to get closure or whatever it is, but if you ask me, it's rather twisted, forcing yourself to stand there helpless and watch it all happen. Are you just a masochist, or is there something else you aren't telling me about all of this?"

"Draco," Harry had been caught by surprise when the speech started, but by the end he had decided it was best just to let Draco say everything he'd been wondering about since this investigation had started. "I want to do this right, and it seems to me that if you've got all these fake memories of killing people, the only way for your mind to really accept that those are lies is for you to see what really happened first hand in each case. Some of the cases are a bit difficult to find surviving witnesses for, but I'm confident that we'll be able to do it. As for my own feelings…" he trailed off, losing his thread, and Draco reached across the table. At first, Harry had the bizarre thought that Draco was going to pat his hand, but he was simply making a grab for the memory he had gotten from Blaise.

"You know what's in here. I know what's in here. Face it; we know that I didn't pop out from under my table just to knock off Ginny Weasley. If I was feeling so poorly that I wouldn't even make an attempt at you, I wasn't about to risk myself against her. You remember how strong she was. Whoever _did_ kill her either got very lucky, or they were damn powerful. I'm guessing with the chaos that it was the first thing. So she was killed by a Death Eater other than me. Chances are that person is dead, since almost all of them are, unless you count the people my age, none of which stood a chance against her, to tell you the truth, and none of which were very big on the whole Avada Kedavra idea. My father's generation was willing to kill for the Dark Lord, but we weren't really doing anything for _him_, we were just going along with what our parents wanted. They had to threaten to kill me and my whole family just to get me to make an attempt on someone's life, so clearly, we weren't that motivated." Draco paused before moving on, "With all that said, her killer's probably dead, so let's just skip this one, for both our sakes.

"No." Harry shook his head, his voice solid and strong as if he didn't think it would nearly break him to watch Ginny die. "If I were willing to skip watching every other case, I would never skip hers. A lot of these victims were my friends, but Ginny…"

"Please, Potter, if you start crying, don't expect me to comfort you." Draco cut in, "You're doing this to yourself. Is it going to make it any better? Do you just need to know that there was no way you could have saved her, nothing you could have done differently if you had it to live over? Because you're never going to think that, no one does. We all make mistakes, we all feel regret, and nothing ever ends the way it should."

"This will." Harry's voice was husky with emotion. "Dammit, Draco, whatever I've failed in, I won't fail here. I will see this through to the end, and you'll be there with me when we get there. I don't care if I have to drag you kicking and screaming through the rest of this appeal, I want to do this right. I want to know that I made a difference to you, I want you to be able to live your life."

"Because my life will be so wonderful out there?" Draco sneered, "I'll still be in prison, whichever way this goes. Either I'm locked in here, or I'm locked in Malfoy Manor, not able to leave the house without something to protect me from being hexed by nearly every witch or wizard I come across. Please. It's not so bad in here, honestly. I won't be your symbol of salvation."

"I won't let you give up on yourself." Harry stood up, his face flushed with anger. "Are you honestly saying you want to die in Azkaban? Do you want me to go and forget about all this? And don't say yes just so you can make yourself a martyr, tell me what you really want, and I'll do it. Right now."

Draco wanted to tell him to go, if only to spare him any more pain, but Draco had never been a very selfless person. "Alright, you win." He handed over the memory, and in the space of seconds, they were back in the Three Broomsticks.

----------

"I still say this is stupid." Draco grumbled as Harry yanked him by the hand across the room to get as close as they could to the whirl of red hair that was easily identified as Ginny Weasley. "No sane person wants to watch their girlfriend die."

"She was not my girlfriend." Harry shot back, "Well, not during this. Now shut up for ten seconds."

"No need to be crabby with me. I'm still under the table. I'm not the one that killed her." Draco folded his arms and pouted slightly.

"Actually, you're out from under there, see?" Harry pointed across the pub to where Draco's past self had crawled over to Pansy's prone form and was struggling to lift her with no small difficulty. Finally, he started dragging her across the floor toward the doorway. "You're not much of a hero, are you?"

"Hey, she's no pixie." Draco answered snappishly, "and remember, I was living in the dungeons, what, two weeks ago? Father doesn't feed prisoners well, even if they're his only son."

"Uh oh," Harry went pale. "I'm dueling Nott, it's about to happen." He indicated his own image across the room fighting Theodore's father, "I remember, I'd nearly got him, and then I heard Ginny…"

Sure enough, Ginny Weasley was herself in the midst of a duel. She was matching Lucius Malfoy blow for blow, but Draco's father was clearly not enjoying meeting his equal in a much younger Weasley girl. His attacks were becoming more desperate and stronger, and it was clear to Draco that something was going to have to give soon or Lucius might just throw a chair at her head in frustration.

Suddenly, Draco saw someone creeping behind Ginny, someone he most definitely recognized. "Well, it's clear how he's able to remember what happened." Draco was able to speak after a moment of shock, "He was part of it, wasn't he?" and as if to confirm his suspicions, Blaise shot off a hex, but Ginny was faster than him, and she whirled to face him, casting a Shield charm in the same instant, and causing his hex to bounce away harmlessly. However, Lucius took the opportunity to fire off a curse that Draco was all too familiar with, having been the victim of it in his sixth year, during his last duel with Harry Potter.

It seemed as though her hair was no longer quite as bright next to the blood spraying in every direction, and the pain in her eyes was so great that Draco recalled for himself what it had felt like to be on the receiving end of Sectumsempra. Had he bled this much? Had he screamed so loudly? He could not recall, though maybe all his memories were compromised by his father's tinkering. And just then, there was the sound of a great heaving sob, and Draco remembered his companion, who was having a much harder time of this memory than Draco, as they'd known he would. He was pale as death, paler even than the girl that wavered on her feet, trying to get off one last curse before his own father's Avada Kedavra silenced her for good. Draco realized that there was something wet on his face, and it took a moment for the connection to be made.

He was crying. But why? For Ginny Weasley? For Potter's suffering at his own expense? For himself and his cowardly escape from this fight mere moments ago? For the anguish on the face of the past Potter, who was now at her side, far too late to do any good? Harry of the past was crying, as was the Harry beside him, both lost in the futility of their own regret and rage, but at least the Harry at Draco's side knew the truth of what had happened.

Seeing how much she meant to him, seeing how he carried her corpse to safety when he had not paused to aid the escape of any of his other compatriots, dead or alive, Draco realized now how truly Harry must have believed in him to have done this thing, to have gone to so much trouble already and to be working so hard still to clear his name. If Harry had ever suspected that Draco really had done this thing, then even if he knew Draco to be innocent of every other crime laid down at his feet, he did not doubt the other man would have been content to let him live the rest of his days in Azkaban, waiting for death, should it come from age or from Harry himself, come in the night to avenge this sweet, martyred heroine he had cared for so much. Draco wondered if the deaths of Hermione Granger or Ron Weasley would have affected him so strongly, and he wondered what it would be like to truly love someone, to care for them so much that you would give your life to protect them. He'd had friends, he supposed, that he could trust. A handful of Slytherins that were more than just followers or lackeys, that he honestly thought would follow him to death's door. But when he tried to imagine them feeling this way on his behalf, mourning his death so passionately, he could not imagine it. Perhaps he lacked the creative vision to see it in his mind's eye, or perhaps, like Potter had said, he underestimated his own worth. Perhaps Gryffindors were all unable to control their emotions.

But it would be nice, he thought, to know someone loved him so strongly as that.

Bending down to help up the man that had led him here, saying he would be fine, saying he would be able to handle it, and now a sniveling mess, Draco recalled telling him that he would offer no comfort, should Harry start to cry.

_It wouldn't be the first time I've lied to him, nor is it likely to be the last._

"Come on, then." His tone was soft, but his grip was firm as he lifted the other man to his feet. "No need to linger, is there?"

"I came as soon as I could," his breath was catching as he wiped his nose on his sleeve, and Draco couldn't help thinking it made him look about five years old. "But I was in the middle of a duel. So was Ron, or he'd have…"

"My father wouldn't have hesitated to kill two as quickly as one." Draco sighed heavily, using his own filthy sleeve to mop up the mess Harry had made of his face. "No offense to Weasley, but my father's nothing to laugh at in battle. Bad enough for you to suffer one death. My father was not an easy man to kill."

"Someone managed it." Harry's tone was serious now, and in his mind, Draco saw himself casting the killing curse, heard his mother screaming in grief and rage behind him, saw her swoop toward him in a wave of pale hair and dark robes. But he could remember casting the curse on all those others. No surprise, really, learning he hadn't done any of that. How could he hope to best Lucius Malfoy in a duel, much less Ginny Weasley or Remus Lupin or any of the others?

"I suppose so." Draco gave him a faint smile, "Now, are you ready to leave this?" he had given up on scrubbing the tears from Harry's face and indicated their surroundings.

"Yes please," and in moments they were back in the interview room. Harry all but fell against Draco, who was barely able to support the other man's weight, what with the atrophy of unused muscles and the one sparse meal a day afforded to inmates at the wizarding prison. "I'm sorry." Harry's voice was muffled and weak as he spoke with his face pressed against Draco's neck. The other man wasn't sure what else to do, so he let his arms wrap around Harry's lean frame.

"Now you'll smell like me." Draco whispered. "We only get to bathe once a week. I'm rather ripe with it."

"I thought…I'd do better." Harry had no intention to move until he had his emotions well in hand. He didn't want the Azkaban guards to see his face tear-streaked and splotchy, no matter the cause. "I miss her."

"You loved her, didn't you?" Draco asked a curious hand going to Harry's messy hair and finding it almost as soft as he remembered his own being when he'd had access to regular showers. "Were you engaged?"

"No, I broke up with her," Harry snorted in derision at himself, "So no one would hurt her."

"Brilliant plan." Draco answered immediately before wincing, "Sorry, I couldn't—"

"No, you're right." Harry countered Draco's apology. "I thought if she wasn't my girlfriend nothing would happen to her because no one would be able to see that she meant anything to me. I remember Hermione laughing at that, saying I could send her to live in Bulgaria, but no one would forget that I _had_ dated her, that she was my best friend's sister if nothing else, and anyways, it made Ginny pretty angry."

"If she was still alive, would you two…"

"I try not to think about it, but yeah, maybe." Harry pulled back finally and scrubbed at his face in an effort to rid it of the dirt left behind by Malfoy's robes. "Does it really matter anymore, though? She's dead, so no intentions I could have or had amount to anything."

"You're not the one that's dead." Draco replied immediately. "You're not the one that killed her, either. I think you forget that."

"The same goes for you," Harry gave him a tired, crooked grin, "What a pair we make." He packed away his Pensieve and turned to Draco again. "Here." He reached up with his clean, soft sleeves and wiped away the tears that Draco had forgotten about, still glistening on his cheeks. "I'm glad you were there with me, even if I totally lost it anyway."

"I told you it was stupid to go." Draco tried not to blush in embarrassment at having Harry see him cry, even though his own reaction had been rather reserved next to Potter's. "We know what happened to all of them, and most of the murderers are already dead."

"That's where you're wrong." Harry told him in a soft voice. "I know for a fact that at least one is still alive."

"What do you—"

But Harry had nearly flown out of the room after dropping this little bit of news.

"Bastard." Draco sulked.

----------

Knockturn Alley was one of the few places a former Death Eater or affiliate of Voldemort's could walk about in daylight without being harassed by most of the passers by. Therefore, Harry was not surprised that Theodore Nott requested that they meet there, in a shady little hole-in-the-wall pub that he had never been to before.

When he arrived there, Nott was already waiting for him, drinking from a cloudy glass of liquid that could have either been something alcoholic or some of the most disgusting looking water Harry had ever seen. Harry ordered a glass of the house ale, wanting to seem more confident than he actually felt, and sat down to join him.

"Their ale tastes like piss." Were the first words Harry heard out of Theodore Nott's mouth, and as far as he recalled, they were the first words the man had ever addressed to him aloud. "Though maybe I just find all ale tastes that way."

"What are you having?" Harry asked, trying not to be thrown off by his opening words.

"Cat piss." Nott answered readily, swigging some of it down. Harry was confident from the alcoholic scent that it was _not_ in fact what he claimed, but he thought it better not to argue with the strange young man.

"So," Harry took his first drink of the ale and realized that Nott was not misleading him about the quality. He hurriedly set the tankard down and tried again. "So, I gather you're aware of why I called you out to meet me."

"Eh," Nott shrugged noncommittally.

"That is, I'm trying to clear up what actually happened to certain people during the war." Harry plowed onward. "Specifically, those people that Draco Malfoy confessed to killing."

Nott finished his drink and then blinked at Harry. "Are you paying?"

"Er, what? I mean, I guess so, I didn't—"

"One more round here," Nott waved his empty glass at the barkeep, who grumbled quite a bit before coming over to gather the glass and refill it.

"So, as I was saying…" Harry scratched his head, what _had_ he been saying, anyway? "Um, where was I?"

"You were saying you were going to pay." Nott replied readily.

"No, before that." Harry heaved a frustrated sigh as the bartender left Nott a new drink and went back to whatever he occupied himself with behind the counter. "I was saying that I was here…about Draco, and the people he admitted to killing."

"I guess." Nott was poking at a piece of ice in his glass with much more interest than he was showing Harry.

"Well, the truth is that I can already prove beyond doubt that his memory was being manipulated, and he was led to believe that he had done those things, when really he hadn't." Harry tried to regain his stride. Even Blaise had been easier to talk to than this. "A plot of his father's, you see, to force him into—"

"Do you think that's a crack, or is there a spider in this?" Nott interrupted, holding up the piece of ice he'd been investigating.

"I…I'm not sure." Harry responded, thrown off his stride again.

"It looks like a spider." Nott set the cube down. "Were you going to finish your piss?" without waiting for an answer, he smashed the tankard over the ice cube, leaving a crack in the glass, but shattering the cube as well. "Eh, just a crack, I guess." He pushed about the bits of ice with his fingers for a moment before sweeping the lot to the floor in one swift motion.

"So," Harry needed to regain control of this conversation, or he'd never get to the point. The glass of ale was now slowly leaking onto the table, and he wasn't sure what to do about that, so he just took a large swig, which he immediately regretted. "So, I've been trying to get proof, in the form of memories of the actual deaths of those victims in question. And I recently spoke with someone who advised me you'd seen Lavender Brown killed at the Three Broomsticks."

"Did Blaise charge you extra for that bit?" Nott asked, for the first time seeming to pay attention to what Harry was saying. He was actually thrown off by the sudden attention, and it took him a moment to answer.

"Er, no, I don't think so." He licked his lips and watched the growing puddle of ale. "But the fact remains that I need your help if I'm to help Draco. The two of you were in school together, in the same house, and I'm sure he'd appreciate—"

"Draco doesn't appreciate anything anyone does for him." Nott cut him off. "You should know that now if you think he's going to be your loyal little lapdog. He thinks everyone owes him favors and they're obligated to risk their own lives to help him out. He's a selfish prat, and a coward to boot. It's laughable that anyone even believes he killed all those people, considering he'd practically wet himself at the mention of actual battle."

"He wasn't the bravest person in the war, but he doesn't deserve what's happened to him." Harry was shocked at how casual Nott's tone was through his declamation of Malfoy. "You've known him since you were children, and I know as well as you that he can be difficult, but he has his good points as well, Theodore—"

"Don't call me that!" suddenly, the tankard flew from the table and into Harry's chest, glass shattering all over his lap and ale spilling down his front. Nott had not raised his volume, but the anger in his tone had been much more effective than any screaming would have been. "Theodore is dead."

"_Casualties of war aren't always the names on a memorial, or the etchings on a gravestone. Many of them walk among us."_

The words came back to Harry's mind, and he saw more than ever the truth in them. He gazed at the stringy man with dirty-blonde hair sitting across from him. He did not, in truth, look so different from Draco. He was taller, to be sure, and his hair darker, his features a bit more masculine, and his voice was heavier, as though even his words carried the weight of his past. But the similarity was there. Had Nott killed anyone during the war and gotten away with it, Harry wondered. Did the memory haunt Nott the way Draco's constructed memories haunted him? Or was it something else that both of them shared. Nott senior had not survived the war. Harry had killed the man himself, to his shame. He had never forgiven the other man the distraction that he had provided during the battle that had been Ginny's last. The next time they met, Harry had been the clear victor; casting a Stunner so strong it blasted the man right out a window, sending him to his death. Surely, Nott knew that it had been Harry Potter who had killed his father. Undoubtedly he had loved him. He probably had come to this meeting only in the hopes that he could find an opportunity to get his revenge. Suddenly, Harry felt the need to grip his wand where it lay hidden in his robes, but before he had a chance to close his fingers around the familiar piece of wood, Nott surprised him.

"Here," he pulled a bottle from his robes, containing the already extracted memory, and tossed it into Harry's ale-soaked lap. "I don't need money, but you'll need to do me a favor in return."

"What do you want me to do?" Harry was too wary to agree to anything without first hearing what the conditions were. He had doubts as to whether this bottle actually contained the memory he was after.

"Save him." And Nott was gone in a flurry of robes, leaving Harry to pay for the drinks and the broken glass. Harry thought it was a bargain.

To be continued…


	6. Chapter 6

Shades of Truth

Chapter 6

"I'm going to have to tell her what I'm doing if I want her help." Harry set a plate of breakfast in front of his guest. "She'll want to know everything, and what I don't tell her she'll figure out."

"She's smart, but I'm quite sure she's not going to figure _this_ out, so you can just keep it quiet." The response was delayed as the other took their time to season the eggs with what Harry felt was an obscene amount of pepper. "You swore, and I will not release you from your oath just yet."

"Then tell me how we're going to complete this without everyone finding out the truth anyway?" Harry wanted to know. They'd been through this a million times, and it was frustrating how the other would never bend in the slightest.

"We cannot risk the revelation coming to light too soon. You must be patient. Did Dumbledore never teach you the value of dramatic timing?"

"Dumbledore himself admitted that things would have gone smoother and lives would have been saved had he let me know those things which I needed to know earlier than he did." Harry countered. "Did he never tell you that?"

"He was right to keep you in the dark. You were a child then, and you still are."

"Here's your coffee." Harry set the mug down with such force it sloshed over the table and burned his hand.

"And once again, your childishness only causes unnecessary injury." The other chuckled lightly as he cursed and ran to run cold water over his hand. "Tell her what you can without telling that which would break your promise to me. Remember, if you tell her too much, you'll risk breaking other promises as well."

"He said not to _show_ them, he didn't say I couldn't tell anyone about what I saw." Harry spat defiantly.

"You know what he intended as well as I do. You would not break your word to him, however little I mean to you, however little Draco means to you."

"Don't you presume to know…" Harry stopped himself and felt his face go red.

"Oh? I see, now that _is_ an interesting development."

"Shut up." Harry shot impotently before leaving the house. He knew he wasn't angry with his guest. He was angry with himself and his own inability to do things on his own. He needed Hermione's help, but how he would get it without giving away the game too early, he had no idea. Secretly, he wished that she knew everything already, but he knew she'd tell Ron, and he'd never understand.

_Everyone will know eventually, you said it yourself._

Yes, but he could think of what words of explanation he could offer Ron later. To Ron, no matter the proof, Draco would always be his sister's killer, and for that, he deserved death in the Weasley's mind.

----------

"I forgot to ask you who we're witnessing today." Draco asked as Harry prepared his Pensieve and set out the memory.

"Lavender Brown." Harry answered, and after a brief pause decided to elaborate. "Nott gave it to me."

"Really?" Draco looked very impressed and vaguely horrified, as if Harry had just claimed he could teach dragons to be good nursemaids. "How did you get that?"

"Uh, I'm not actually sure." Harry coughed uncomfortably. "Blaise made me pay him, but at least he didn't flip out and cover me in glass and ale."

"Oh, I see." Draco nodded, a knowing look on his face. "You called him Theodore, didn't you?"

"I take it he's not a fan of his given name?" Harry asked, wishing he'd mentioned who he was visiting before so that Draco could warn him.

"Named after his grandfather, one of the vilest old men I've ever had the displeasure of knowing. And I knew the Dark Lord _and_ my father." Draco gave a short laugh. "I personally think his father did it as a sacrifice to appease the man and keep him from visiting. Didn't really work." He leaned forward with a conspiratorial grin on his face. "When we were in third year, Crabbe called him Theodore, and Nott hit him once. Just once, and Crabbe was in the hospital wing three nights."

"Guess I got off light, then." Harry raised his eyebrows.

"No, I think he's just mellowed out a lot." Draco took a deep breath. "Are you ready to go, then?"

"Yeah, this is the last Three Broomsticks death, finally." Harry was more relieved than he could believe as they both entered the memory.

----------

"I used to enjoy this place, you know." Draco told Harry as they made their way toward Lavender Brown, who had rejoined the battle after getting her friend out of the fray. She'd have been better off looking after the other girl, but Harry admired the bravery of a girl he'd more than once thought was shallow and flighty. She was strong when it mattered, though.

"Well, don't worry about ever seeing it in real life." Harry advised him, "Madame Rosmerta won't let you so much as set a toe inside, though I've tried to get her to forgive those who weren't imprisoned."

"You can't blame her, this had to have cost a fortune to repair." Draco shrugged. "Now then, where are _we_, now that we've found the center of this particular memory?" he gazed around. "You're doing well, considering."

"Yeah," Harry pursed his lips, trying not to think of how foolishly he'd behaved their last time in the Pensieve. Draco must think him a gibbering idiot. "You never came back from helping Pansy."

"Well, I did what I could." Draco gave a half smile to Harry as they turned their attention to Lavender Brown, who was rushing to help Dean Thomas to his feet after he got hit by another Stunner and cracked his head against the floor. "He doesn't know when to quit, does he?"

"Dean was not the best defensive fighter we had, but he was one of the most persistent. It was amazing what he could keep going through." Harry answered, watching Lavender help the dazed boy toward the exit.

"There's Nott." Draco pointed toward the slender young man who cast some hex that caused Lavender to trip, leading to the pair of Gryffindors stumbling to their knees only to stand up once more. "He loved tripping hexes. I'd almost believe he was just casting them at random, just to mess with…" Draco trailed off as he witnessed Nott cast the same hex on his own father. "Okay, I guess he is." His next victim was Hermione Granger, who was actually saved from being nailed by a hex because of her sudden fall, followed swiftly by her opponent, Lucius Malfoy, who leapt to his feet and looked around to try and spot who had cast the hex. "Wow, talk about a great equalizer."

"What is with him?" Harry asked, not really expecting an answer. Nott had just turned about and strolled back the way he came, ostensibly deciding that he'd tripped enough people for the day. Somehow, no one started dueling with him or seemed to see him as a threat. For good measure, he cast another tripping hex on a former target, whose face was red with rage, though he had no idea where the trouble was coming from. "His own father? Did he have issues with his father?"

"That would be an understatement." Draco replied, and they watched as Nott's father looked around wildly to see who could have hexed him, spotted Lavender just entering the Three Broomsticks again, and swiftly cast the killing curse on her. Lavender fell in a graceful arc, as though she was going down in slow motion. A moment later, Nott cast a Stunner on his father so strong the man flew through the air and fell on the body of the girl he'd just killed. His son kicked his head as he continued toward the door. He bent over, and Harry assumed that he was going to carry his father out of the chaos, but instead he pushed the skinny body aside and picked up the beautiful corpse beneath it, carrying the girl out of the pub and away from the battle.

"What just happened?" Harry frowned at Draco. "Did Nott and Lavender…"

"Don't ask me. I thought he just hated everyone." Draco replied.

"But he helped you." Harry countered. "Even though he knew we'd see this."

"He's surprised me before." Draco answered. "I can never decide whether he wants me dead or wants me to be his friend."

"Well, we've seen enough of this." Harry grabbed his hand and they left the memory in a flurry. He immediately began packing up his things.

"Are you seeing another of my old housemates today?" Malfoy asked as he helped Harry with the Pensieve while the other man scribbled a few notes out to look over later. "I could offer you advise so you don't end up covered in your drink again."

"No." Harry let the ink dry, putting away his quill and ink and turning to face the man standing beside him. "No, I have to go visit St. Mungo's."

"Um," Malfoy bit his lip, trying to think of what Harry was going to be doing at the hospital. "Who's at St. Mungo's?"

"Well," Harry took a deep breath, "I'm working on a few different deaths right now. I think that for one or two, we may end up needing to do some Legilimency to access what's been buried in your mind. However, I really don't want to risk damaging your mind, so I'm going to get every one I can from other sources. Also, I don't think you were present for some of them in the first place. I have an idea for one of them, but I'll need help from someone with more knowledge of specialized magical objects…"

"Hermione Granger." Draco nodded. "Does she work there now?"

"No, actually," Harry answered, not surprised he had seen who would be needed for help on specialized research right away. "She's an Unspeakable."

"Of course." Draco rolled his eyes. "I should have guessed. It was either that or a librarian."

"Anyway, one of the others, I know someone who was there, but they haven't been…well, very well since what happened, so I'm going to have to visit them in the patient's ward at St. Mungo's." Harry admitted. "I'm hoping to be able to get through to him, or at least to use a bit of Legilimency to extract the knowledge I need."

"Who are you visiting?" Draco asked, overcome with curiosity.

"George Weasley." Harry answered and Draco saw that he was clearly not looking forward to this. Not thinking about it, he leaned forward and hugged Harry tightly, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"I want you to know, I appreciate what you're doing, even if it doesn't work." He whispered in Harry's ear, and he was surprised at how tightly the other man hugged him back.

"I know you do." He whispered back, his face flushed as they separated. "Thank you."

----------

"We've set up a separate room so you can talk with him in privacy as long as you like, Mr. Potter," a nurse breathlessly led him down the hallway, her eyes bright and hopeful as she walked beside one of the most well known men in the wizarding world. "We'll have someone stationed outside, so you can call for help if he gets upset or anything happens."

"I'm sure it will be fine." Harry wished the girl would stop making doe eyes at him, it was embarrassing for both of them, frankly. "Thank you so much, nurse."

"You can call me Emily." She was blushing brightly now that he was looking at her in the face, as they'd reached the room where George was waiting. "And if there's anything else you'd like, Mr. Potter, anything at all, don't hesitate."

"That's very kind of you, I'm sure." He excused himself politely and entered the sanitary looking hospital room, empty but for a pair of chairs, one of which had a silent, vacant looking occupant. Harry shut the door behind him and tried to bite back the tears that came to his eyes whenever he saw the lone Weasley twin. He'd never been the same since Fred's death during the war. Insane with grief, he'd somehow made his escape, being forced to leave the body (if there was anything left of it) behind in the process. Harry had suspected that the twins had thought to avenge their sister's death by infiltrating one of the Death Eaters known areas of operation: Malfoy Manor. However, things had not gone well, and only one of them had come out of it alive. He was found a day's walk from the borders of the estate, curled up in a ball and unable to communicate with anyone. For days, the only things he would say were "Where's Fred?" and "Where's Malfoy?" leading everyone to believe that his brother had been killed by Lucius or Draco. When the younger admitted to the murder, no one had questioned it until Harry had been advised of other possibilities. He was positive that if a Malfoy _had_ killed Fred, it was Lucius, but he needed proof. He knew that it was locked in George's mind, if he could get to it.

However, since the accident, George had not gotten any better, as far as anyone could see. Now, whenever he spoke at all, it was to ask where his brother was, though it appeared that he had gotten rather confused by the incident, and would sometimes ask for Fred, sometimes for George. Harry thought it was like seeing one person being cut in half, one half dying and the other half being forced to go on living, trying to accomplish alone all the things it had needed to be full for. Of course, he still went with the Weasleys to visit him every Christmas, and he knew that Lee Jordan, and a good number of surviving Gryffindor Quidditch team members visited him on his birthday. Unfortunately, it seemed he would never recover what he had lost when his other half had died.

"Hello, George," Harry's heart broke to see someone so full of life become so utterly dead and devoid, and that is the way he felt any time he visited George. "I've come to ask some questions. About Fred."

"Where's Fred?" George looked around vaguely, as though he had just woken up and was expecting to see his twin in the room.

Harry didn't bother to answer that. "Do you remember what happened to him, George? At Malfoy Manor?"

"George…where's George?" he looked around in the same sleepy manner as before.

"Do you remember who killed Fred?" Harry asked, and that got a reaction. George's face became red as a tomato and he let out a short shriek before tears began pouring down his face. "That's right, I know it's sad, George, but I need you to think about Fred. Who killed Fred?"

"He's lost." Fat tears continued rolling down his face. "I lost him."

"I know, he's died, who killed him, George?" Harry pressed, excited that he was getting something other than his generic response. "Who killed Fred?"

"I killed them, I killed them all." George scrubbed at his eyes like a small child might. "He killed them all and so did I but he's lost."

"George, please, if you'd just tell me, I could help draw out the memory, I could find who did it if they're still alive. If not, I could find Fred's body, and we could bury it in the Weasley plot. Would you like that? To bring Fred home." Harry pressed, but he doubted George had understood any of what he'd said.

"Where's George?" was the only response he received, and he knew he'd moved too fast. He decided to try something else.

"Where's Fred?" he asked, not knowing if this would work or if it would just make George angry. "Where did Fred go?"

"Where's…Fred?" George sounded a bit confused and hesitant.

"Yes, where did he go? Do you know where Fred is? Where did you see him last?" Harry asked almost as though they were playing a game of hide and go seek.

"In the sun." George answered, sounding as if he were half asleep. "I see him in the sun. He's beautiful."

"Yes, I remember that, he was beautiful, wasn't he?" Harry agreed, grabbing hold of his wand and readying himself for when the memory he wanted came to the surface. "Was that where you left him?"

"Fred?" George sounded scared, and younger than Harry could believe. "Fred? I can't see you!"

"Where did he go?" Harry encouraged George, not sure this would work, but hoping it was worth all the grief. "Where's Fred at?"

"He was in front, to protect me, I protect him, he protects me because it's perfect." George sighed softly as though remembering a happy time, and the tears were back. "He's perfect with me there, too."

"Where are you?" Harry pressed, not wanting to just extract a memory of them in their days at Hogwarts.

"Hold my hand, I'm scared." George whimpered, and Harry knew that George was not talking to him. In any case, he knew better than to touch him. George usually started screaming when people tried to hold his hand or hug him after what had happened. "Fred, I'll come back for you, I swear. I love you."

"Where are you?" Harry pushed again, "Where's Fred?"

"Malfoy…" George collapsed in a sobbing mess, and Harry knew he'd found what he was looking for. Pressing the wand to George's temple, he extracted the memory he'd come for, bottled it up, and by the time he put it in his robes, George was back to his normal behavior.

"Where's Fred?" he asked Harry as though he really was expecting an answer.

"I'll find him for you, if I can." Harry answered. "I'll bring him home."

To be Continued…


	7. Chapter 7

Shades of Truth

Chapter 7

"Draco, can I ask you something?" Harry began as he set out his Pensieve and the memory he'd gotten from George. "Do you know what happened to the bodies of the people who died at Malfoy Manor?"

"What?" Draco blinked, clearly not expecting that question. "Do you mean, like Fleur or any of the other people my father killed there?"

"Yes, none of their bodies were recovered, so I was wondering." Harry shrugged slightly, feeling foolish asking about something so morbid, but he'd promised George, and he really would do his best. "Does he burn them or something?"

"No, he puts them back." Draco answered. "In the dungeons, way in the back ones on the bottom level. That way, they're hard for people to find, but it gives the whole place that stench of death. And you can scare all the other prisoners by dragging a corpse past their cell."

"That's…rather twisted." Harry grimaced. "Do you think they're there right now?"

"Yeah, well the only people that really know their way around those cells are dead, except me." Draco shrugged. "My mother never liked going down there."

"I wonder why." Harry shuddered. "If I get you out, will you take me? It's just, if I could return the remains to the families, I think that would help…some of them."

"Sure," Draco shrugged, "though they're probably pretty far gone by now."

"It's okay." Harry nodded, "Are you ready to see this one?"

"Oh Merlin, we're going to the Malfoy dungeons, aren't we?" Draco scowled.

"I'm not sure where it happened. What does your memory say?" Harry asked him.

"In the front foyer. Though who knows if that's true." Draco shrugged, and they both plunged into the memory.

----------

Indeed they were in the Malfoy's front foyer, and they heard a decent amount of noise as two redheads came in, running down the stairs with their wands out.

"We should split up," the first twin told the one just behind him as they hit the ground floor and looked around, wands still at the ready. "This place is too damn big."

"No, we should stick together, in case we run into a group." The other argued, and the first nodded agreement before they burst into a sitting room, Draco and Harry following right behind them.

"Which is which?" Draco asked him urgently. "I can't tell."

"Neither can I." Harry admitted. "If they do split up, we'll have to as well, but it won't do much good, since George can't remember what happened to Fred if he wasn't there for it."

"Why are they here? I definitely don't remember them just coming in my house. In my memory, they were brought in, and one escaped because he had cut the ropes holding him. He ran away, I killed the other." Draco summarized. "Somehow, it's a lot less disturbing to remember when I know it isn't real."

"Was it before?" Harry asked as they followed the Weasleys down a corridor where they entered almost every room, except the ones they couldn't immediately gain access to.

"Gave me nightmares." Draco admitted. "I know my father wanted to trick me into becoming used to killing, but I guess it just scared me to think I could do those things for no reason that I could possibly think of that would really justify it."

"You're a pacifist at heart, aren't you?" Harry asked the other man.

"I guess, but it seems more like I'm a coward." Draco told him.

"Don't say that." Harry turned to face him as they jogged behind the redheads. "I don't think you give yourself the credit you deserve."

"I don't think I deserve much." Draco told him honestly, and Harry's only response was to twine their fingers as they watched the twins argue briefly about having reached a dead end. They decided swiftly to return the way they'd come and try the opposite side of the house when a cold voice interrupted their planning.

"Expelliarmus!" he neatly caught one of the two wands, and kicked the other one away so that they would have to pass him to reach it.

"Lucius Malfoy." One of the boys spoke in a tone that showed none of the fear they must have been feeling. "We were just looking for you."

"Well, well, guests in my house, and me caught unawares." Lucius Malfoy had his wand trained on the two boys. "Come to avenge your sweet little sister? Or did you just want to hear me rhapsodize over how easily I killed her?"

"Let's see how you handle the pair of us!" One twin leapt at him, apparently intent in just wrestling his wand away with sheer physical force. The other twin ran for the wand behind Lucius while he was busy trying to wrestle with his brother.

Possibly triggered by the physical attack, an odd alarm started blaring, and suddenly the corridor was full of Death Eaters. One twin had recovered his wand and was two feet from the nearest of the response force that had somehow come out of the doors of rooms that had been locked. Whatever had happened, it was clear that things were suddenly very much in the Death Eaters' favor.

"Kill them!" Lucius shouted, and this inspired the twin he was tangled up with to yell instructions to his twin.

"Get out of here, George, please, I'll distract them!"

"You can't Apparate, boy, we've already put restrictions on the area!" one Death Eater laughed as George made an attempt to escape in the obvious way and failed.

"Did you think there'd be no security?" Malfoy laughed as he was able to throw Fred down with the help of another Death Eater. "Idiot Weasley! Now, die like your sister!" he turned first to Fred, who had given him so much trouble, and in a moment, a slash of his wand, and two words, it was over. One twin stared at the ceiling with eyes that would never see anything again.

"Fred!" George went berserk immediately. "_FRED!!!_" he screamed between cursing the Death Eaters around him so forcefully that they could do nothing to stop him, but they were still stopping him from reaching his brother. "FRED!!!" tears streaming down his face, George began cursing fast and without aim at all, causing a wall hanging to catch fire and cracking a section of wall heavily.

"Get him _out_ of here before he tears my house down!" Lucius yelled at his underlings, most of which were dazedly trying to regain their feet. "Then _kill_ him already!"

One lunged at George with a knife, and was able to chase him down the hall, the others followed and Draco and Harry tagged along. Suddenly, as though George remembered what his brother's last words had been, he made an actual effort to escape, and after stabbing the Death Eater with his own knife, he fled completely, still screaming and sobbing.

"So _that's_ who killed Macnair." Draco finally spoke after it was all over and they returned to Azkaban.

"I told George I'd try and get the body back." Harry told Draco in a weary tone as he packed his things away with the other man's help. "That's why I was asking. He's always asking where Fred is."

"I can't imagine…" Draco trailed off, and Harry knew what he meant. To be so strongly tied to someone that their death nearly killed you, that you could never live normally again afterward, it seemed impossible. But he supposed that every death of someone you cared for jarred your reality, changed you slightly, and this was just an extreme case of that.

"I'm talking to Hermione today." Harry advised him, wanting to change the subject, to stop thinking about the Weasley twins and what had become of them. "If she agrees to help I may bring her back with me the next time I come."

"Will it be long?" Draco asked. "Only you said you needed to do something different with a magical object."

"Yeah, I could only find one surviving witness of Mad Eye Moody's murder." Harry explained. "His eye."

"So you think…" Draco pondered the idea. "It's a good idea. I hope it works. If anyone can get something out of that ball of glass, it's her, though I don't know if I'm ready to share our little meetings with someone else."

"You're joking, but it really has been something I look forward to." Harry admitted, his face flushing deeply. "I mean, not the memory things, but…I guess I didn't realize that I missed you, or how things would be between us when we were working together instead of opposing each other."

His hand went to the side of Draco's face, and for a long time the two men stared at each other without saying anything, but neither was brave enough to say or do anything for several minutes.

"I like it better this way." Draco wasn't sure if he was saying he liked meeting with Harry alone, or he liked working with him instead of against him, or that he just liked when Harry touched him. It didn't matter, he realized, because really, he meant all of those things. "Don't be too long. You've cursed me with hope, and it makes it nearly unbearable to wait around not doing anything, not seeing you."

"I'm sorry." Harry leaned forward, "Would it be better if I came every day, whether I've got anything new or not? Just to spend time together."

"I'm already asking too much of you." Draco shook his head, pink tingeing his pale cheeks, "I couldn't make you babysit me as well."

"I don't mind." Harry could feel Draco's breath against his face, and he wondered when they'd gotten so close. Had they been standing this near the whole time? "I miss you, too."

"But what would we do if there's no work?" Draco was speaking in a very soft tone, barely breathing the words, and Harry licked his lips unconsciously.

"We'd think of something." And suddenly, Draco couldn't take the tension anymore. He pushed himself forward, and his lips were against Harry's, and it was warm and wet and soft, and in that moment, they weren't in Azkaban, they were someplace where both of them were happy and carefree and content. But it was only a moment before Harry broke the kiss, his face feeling hot enough to catch fire. "I'm sorry."

"I did it." Draco countered. "And I'm not."

"I shouldn't have…it's not fair to just…I have to meet Hermione." And he ran out of the room.

----------

"Hello, Harry," Hermione rose from her seat and hugged him warmly, as though they had not had their recent disagreement at Azkaban. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, and you?" Harry felt like ever since he'd first entered the interview chamber at Azkaban, his social life had consisted of forced meeting with Draco and a variety of witnesses. He'd almost forgotten his living friends, in the company of the dead.

"Oh, Harry, you look so tired," she hugged him once more for good measure before they both sat and she ordered tea for both of them. "You've been running yourself ragged over this thing with Malfoy, haven't you?"

"Possibly." Harry admitted, shrugging as the two cups were left at their table. "Hermione, let me be honest here, I need your help."

"You know I won't help you dig Malfoy a deeper grave." Hermione frowned at him chidingly. "You know what I think of what you've been doing."

"Hermione, you don't know the half of what I've been doing." Harry leaned forward so he could speak quietly to her. "It's not like you think."

"What do you mean?" Hermione leaned forward as well, clearly eager to know Harry's secret.

"I mean, I've got something to tell you, but you have to swear first that you won't tell Ron any of it." Harry felt guilty doing this, as he knew firsthand how difficult it was to keep things this big a secret, but it was the only way he'd be able to finish his work without Ron coming to murder him in the middle of the night.

"Are we talking about something _legal_?" Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, and Harry nearly laughed in relief that her only suspicion was that he might be breaking the law.

"Extremely legal." Harry prompted her to promise, and after a while, she nodded and spoke again.

"Alright, you win; I swear I won't tell Ron what you've been up to." Hermione agreed. "Now what is it?"

"Okay, I know you think that I'm trying to get years added to Malfoy's sentence." Harry could think of no other way to break the news than to just blurt it out. "But I'm actually quite sure he's innocent, and I mean to get his name cleared."

Silence. Hermione's mouth opened, then closed, and then she bent over to dig in her purse. Harry watched her for a moment before curiosity got the better of him.

"What are you doing?" he asked, trying to see what she had pulled from her purse.

"My planner," she held up a brown leather book, "I'm just checking that it's not April Fools' Day or anything."

"This isn't a _joke_!" Harry hissed at her, "Please, do you think I'd joke about this?"

"Not really, but I couldn't think of any other explanation." She shrugged, putting the planner away and frowning at him in confusion. "You expect me to believe that your consuming mission has become to clear Draco Malfoy's name?"

"Yes!" he affirmed. "I've gotten evidence which clears up seven of the twelve murders, and with your help, I could get at least one more of them taken care of."

"I'm sorry…I'm still having a hard time with this. What would have even prompted _you_, the very man who captured Draco, to set him free?" Hermione wanted to know. "Why would you think he was innocent?"

"About a month after his capture, I found evidence that one of his victims was actually still alive." Harry knew he could tell her this much without breaking his promises. "When my suspicions were confirmed, I began to think, how many of these murders _did_ he commit? I mean, he admitted to all of them freely, without any force on our end. It was like he _wanted_ to be condemned, but he also knew enough about the deaths that we didn't question the truth behind his admissions. Some people didn't want to bother giving a Death Eater a trial at all, but with all his confessions, it still ended up locking him away for the rest of his natural life. I began to dig a bit deeper, and I discovered that his memory has been altered several times, mostly by his own father, leading him to actually believe he committed those crimes."

"Why would he do that?" Hermione scowled. "Which of the victims is still alive? Who's confirming these stories?"

"I think he wanted to force Draco into being better able to kill. He couldn't do it, you see, especially not to helpless prisoners, so his father thought he just needed a nudge. It didn't really work out." Harry shrugged. "As for the second question, I can't tell you that. The person made me swear to keep it a secret until they're ready to make an appearance. For the last question, I've gotten various witnesses to corroborate my suspicions about the other murders I've investigated so far. I've seen the true deaths of Fleur, Seamus, Luna, Neville, Ginny, Lavender, and Fred."

"I'm…I'm going to need to go over your notes on this case if I'm going to be able to support you. I mean, I guess I believe you. You seem so sure, and I don't see why you'd lie about this, especially when it would involve Ginny and the others." Hermione answered after a while. "After that, will you tell me what you need my help with? Is it just the rest of the research?"

"No, there's this." Harry produced a small parcel and pushed it across the table. "I believe it contains Moody's last moments, but I have no way of getting it to repeat them for me. If there is a way, that's the only thing I can think of to get hard evidence Draco didn't kill Moody. I can't find anyone else who was present for his death."

"Is this…what I think?" Hermione's eyes went wide. "How did you even get this?"

"A favor." Harry sighed. "Will you help me?"

"I'll try."

To be continued…


	8. Chapter 8

Shades of Truth

Chapter 8

"What are your plans for today?"

"Nothing, unless Hermione owls me." Harry sipped at his coffee, not looking up from his copy of the Daily Prophet. "She's confident she can unlock whatever images or memories the eye holds, and other than that, there's only three more for me to think about. I may have to pull them all from Draco, for all I know."

"Then practice your Legilimency, or at least make more of an attempt to find witnesses to the other murders. You could break his mind pulling out three."

"I could break his mind pulling out just one." Harry replied easily, almost as though it didn't bother him to think about it, though it was clear this worry weighed on him very heavily. "Maybe if he weren't already so injured…"

"Perhaps if you made more of an attempt to remedy that."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry scowled at his guest as the other person busied themselves pouring a cup of coffee. "I'm not the one that scrambled his memories in the first place."

"Do you think seeing the truth is enough to strengthen his mind? He needs a reason to fight. What reason does he have now? Do you think he wants to clear his name so badly that alone will give him the resolve he needs? Or do you imagine he longs to reunite with the pleasant companions you've been seeing so much of lately?"

"You're worse than him." Harry snorted derisively. "You make it sound like he has nothing to live for. He has his whole life before him."

"As pleasant as it is likely to be, out of Azkaban or in. What will stop him from having an accident in a back alley of wizarding London, do you think?"

"He's not a victim." Harry countered, though the words echoed his own mounting worries. "Draco can take care of himself. And besides that, he has friends, I've met them myself. Pansy would do anything for him."

"As long as she still believed he would give her something in return."

"She's not as petty as that," Harry sounded surer than he felt. "And Blaise, or Nott."

"One you had to pay to help him, the other told you how much he values Draco's esteem himself before showering you in ale."

"Crabbe and Goyle would still be loyal to him." Harry began.

"If they were alive. As if they were anything more than brainless thugs to him." There was a long silence before the other spoke again. "Face it, he has no one and nothing. His only family is a smothering, self-absorbed socialite. His friends are graspers and cowards. He wasn't concerned about his situation until you came, and now he suddenly wants to live. You give him reason to hope for something better, and then you ignore it."

"You…don't you pretend to know what goes on…between us." Harry felt rage and embarrassment battle, and he wasn't sure which would triumph. "You haven't a clue."

"Haven't I?"

Harry stormed out of the house. Again.

----------

"It will be soon, I think." Hermione advised him in a whisper as she let him in. "I've nearly got it. I had some silhouettes during the last attempt, and I think if I just..."

"Harry!" Ron hugged his friend eagerly, as though they hadn't seen each other in years, while in truth it had been about a month. "It's been ages. You work too hard."

"Not as hard as Hermione." Harry countered, feeling his anger from before melting away, though he could feel a knot of discomfort grow in his gut as he thought of the secret Hermione and he shared, and what Ron might think when it was revealed.

_He doesn't need to know she helped, or that she knew any of it. I wouldn't do that to them._

"No one works as hard as me, least of all you two." Hermione went on tiptoes to ruffle Ron's hair, and he turned to let her kiss him swiftly on the lips. "Speaking of which, I'll be late if I don't get my breakfast."

"It's waiting for you," Ron shooed her to the kitchen with an affectionate pat on the rear. "You'd think she was Minister of Magic, how seriously she takes things." He shook his head at Harry as the pair followed her at a leisurely pace to the kitchen.

"Maybe she should be." Harry shrugged. "Can't say I wouldn't feel right listening to her."

"Harry, if one of us were to become Minister, it would be you." Hermione looked up from where she'd been slathering jam on some toast. "And _not_ because you're better qualified, just because you look better behind a podium. I can't command a crowd the way you always could."

"Yeah, your voice gets too high and you start explaining the histories of every reference you make." Ron teased her, and she responded with a click of her tongue, as though she found his opinion rather droll. "Can I get you anything, Harry?"

"Er, yeah, I didn't get to finish my coffee before I came over." He asked hopefully. "If there's any left…"

"No problem, just a tick." Ron tromped out of the kitchen, and Hermione started giggling.

"It kills me to see him making breakfast, I have to say." She finally explained her mirth when Harry sat next to her. "Though he makes much better eggs than I do."

"He always loved food." Harry shrugged.

"Yeah, but when I moved in, he could barely make a cup of tea." Hermione sighed lightly, taking a bite of her toast.

"Have you guys set a date yet?" Harry didn't need any further answer than the aggravated expression she shot him in response.

"I wish you'd talk to him…or something. I'll be sixty before I'm a bride, Harry." Hermione whispered, lest Ron hear her in the next room. "I'd like to have one or two kids, _legitimate_ children."

"Just give him time." Harry advised, "You know he loves you. He wouldn't have proposed if he didn't intend to marry you."

Any further discussion of Hermione and Ron's drawn out engagement was cut off by the latter's return with a hot cup of coffee for Harry. Ron settled in the chair across from his best friend, a wide grin on his face.

"What brings you out this morning?" he asked, clearly pleased to have all three of them together in one place. It wasn't as easy to manage these days.

"Ah," Harry covered his lack of a plausible story with a scalding mouthful of coffee, so Hermione leapt to the rescue.

"He turned up an object the other day at a raid." She explained to Ron, "He wants me to tell him more about it, since it was given over to my department, but I've told him I can't."

"Give up now, Harry," Ron advised, "she's always been about the rules, and she just loves lording over us the fact that she has all these secrets. It's better to pretend you don't find her work interesting at all."

"Ron, you find very little that occurs outside the Department of Magical Games and Sports of interest." She rolled her eyes at him. "I assure you, we have _no_ top secret ultra-powered broomsticks."

"She _says_ that," Ron hissed at Harry, and it was hard to tell whether he was joking or not, "but if the Minister isn't using the Department of Mysteries to develop advantages over the other Quidditch teams, than I say he's misusing his resources."

"Yeah, what a gross error of judgment, Ron," Hermione bit at her toast savagely. "Not monopolizing the greatest minds in the country to develop a way to beat Bulgaria. For shame."

"Are you coming in to the office with us?" Ron asked Harry.

"No, I just wanted to stop by before you left. I'm on a mission right now. Research, mostly, so it's pretty boring, but I get to stay home." Harry invented. Very few Aurors knew where Harry was, currently, and those that did had no idea what he was really doing. His reputation gave him a lot more freedom than many of his contemporaries.

"That's good, I guess." Ron shrugged. "Well, Hermione and I have to be off in a moment, but it was good to see you."

Harry stood and hugged them both, but as he'd expected, when Ron Apparated to his office after kissing Hermione, she remained.

"Harry, I said I'd owl you as soon as it was ready." She told him, her brow furrowing. "Is there anything else you need right now? Or did you really just want a visit?"

"Well, I did," Harry admitted, realizing he truly had missed his friends in the weeks that had been full of books and dead end trails and memories and Malfoy. "But I just needed to talk to you, in any case. You know me better than I do, and I wanted your opinion."

"What about?" Hermione asked him, her eyes serious and solemn.

"Do you think what I'm doing is right?" he asked her, his voice cracking as he brought it low.

"Of course." Hermione didn't even hesitate. "Harry, is there something you aren't telling me? I mean, other than the thing you said you couldn't, because if Malfoy really didn't kill those others, then there's reason to believe he didn't do any of it, and it would be cruel to let him stay in Azkaban."

"But why?" Harry pressed, "If he's released, will his life be better, if he has to watch his back everywhere he goes, if all he has left is his horrid mother, is he better off here or there?"

"Harry," she answered after a long, pregnant pause, "I never thought I'd see this happen."

"What?" he asked.

"You like Malfoy." She answered. "I never thought I'd see you _care_ about him, worry about him. Consider him a friend."

"He's not…well, I don't know." Harry felt flustered.

"He's not your friend?" she raised a brow. "You've gone further for him than any of his other friends could have or would have. You love to see the right thing done, Harry, but this is like your personal mission. You're risking your friendship with Ron for his sake. Is he so good that it's worth it?"

"You don't know him the way I do."

"I suppose I don't."

----------

Draco tried not to dance with impatience as the guards unlocked his cell to guide him up to the interview room. It had been nearly a week since he'd seen Potter, and all he could think about was how he'd probably scared the other man off for good when he'd nearly jumped him the last time they'd seen each other.

His fears had fed on themselves the day after when no one visited. No one came the day after that, either. He waited every day, telling himself that he was only listening for the guards approach, the jingle of keys, because it was something to break up the monotony of laying on his side and waiting for his single meal. He didn't care if he ever saw Harry Potter again. He could care less if he ever was free.

But when they did come, he'd leapt to his feet so fast, it was as though he'd been saving up all his energy for the moment he'd see the other man again. Finally, they reached the room and locked the door behind him. For once, Harry was already in the room, but he wasn't sitting, and Draco didn't see the Pensieve case, or his papers, or anything but the anxiety in Harry's eyes.

_It didn't work. Whatever Granger was trying, it didn't work._

Somehow, he didn't care very much when it meant that Harry had at least come to break the news. Deciding to pretend nothing out of the ordinary had happened last week, Draco headed for his own seat, but he was intercepted by an iron grip on his wrist.

"Did the eye not work?" he asked, deciding to just cut to the chase.

"It's working fine." Harry's answer actually surprised him. "Hermione should have it figured out in a day or two."

"Then why—"

"I had to see you." Harry looked as though he ached to say something more, but couldn't find the words in him.

"Don't worry about me, I'm fine here." Draco tried not to let his sudden lightheadedness affect his tone. "I just wait until the stone slab I sleep on makes my side numb with cold and imagine I'm flying. I think I miss that the most of—"

Harry suddenly pulled Draco against him, his lips crushing against those of the other man. At first, Draco was too shocked to respond, but gradually his own mouth began to respond, to work against Harry's, to taste him and be tasted. It was exquisite, and Draco thought he'd be willing to spend another week alone just for the chance to do it again.

"I missed you." Harry panted as they broke apart. "I couldn't wait to come back."

"Why'd you stay away?" Draco wanted to know, content to tuck his face against Harry's neck, breathing in the scent of grass and shampoo and soap.

"I thought it was wrong," he began, trying to choose his words carefully, so as not to upset Draco. "I thought I was taking advantage of you or something."

"That's stupid." Draco sounded as though he was falling asleep against Harry's neck.

"I know."

To be continued…


	9. Chapter 9

Shades of Truth

Chapter 9

"I'm home," Harry was flushed with pleasure when he came home, and had completely forgotten the recent bickering between himself and his houseguest. "What did you want for dinner?" he popped into the study, which was empty, and shrugged.

"Hello?" he called out, "Are you home?" he knew that was a stupid question. He was the only one who ever went out. His guest knew better than to even attempt a stroll down the street, but seemed to take their self-imposed imprisonment with little complaint or care. It suited them to stay in all day reading, in any case.

"In the kitchen."

He turned on his heel and swept toward the other room, his smile back in place. As if he could stop smiling. It was horrible, he was sure, to feel so good when Draco was still in Azkaban, but he had a feeling the other man was probably finding it impossible to look like a somber, hopeless prisoner as well. They hadn't done much besides hold each other, kiss a few times, and talk. It had been what they both needed, though. It felt like all his concerns would clear themselves up, as long as they had each other to rely on.

"Hey, I was thinking for dinner we could—" Harry was cut off mid-suggestion by the scene that met his eyes and swept the smile off his face. His guest was sporting a bright bruise down the side of their face, their hands were bound by magical rope, and Hermione was holding a wand trained on them from a few feet away. "Hermione." He said the first thing the sprung to his lips, feeling rather stupid. "I didn't know you were coming over."

"Yes, I finished my research on the eye, you see." She grinned in a bitter fashion. "I didn't think you'd be in, as you rarely are, so I just decided to let myself in. I thought it was weird that you had all those protection charms on the front door, but I figured you were worried about assassins or dark wizards deciding to make a name for themselves or something of that sort. I didn't know you had _this_ in your house."

"You didn't put up much of a fight." Harry observed his guest, who muttered darkly under their breath before sighing heavily. "After telling me I couldn't say anything to her, and you don't bother to hide when she comes over."

"How was _I_ supposed to know your protection charms were so easily bypassed?"

"They wouldn't have been, but recall that I've been doing magic alongside Harry since I knew I was a witch. I know how he constructs things like this. Always with a back door for Ron and I, should we need to reach him in an emergency. Or should there be _dead_ people living in his house."

"Please, Hermione," Harry sighed heavily. "There's a perfectly good explanation for this."

"One you have sworn not to share with others."

"Oh come _on_," Harry entreated the other, "it's not like she's going to take you in to the Ministry tomorrow and turn you over."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that."

"Harry, let me say that while I always trust you to have the best intentions, your judgment is sometimes…lacking. And I believe this is one of those cases." Hermione told him.

"Hermione, look at me." Harry decided to do what he could without sharing the secret knowledge he was _still_ not allowed to share, it seemed. "Am I under the Imperius curse?" he spread his hands wide, showing her they contained nothing as she looked him over, her piercing gaze resting on his green eyes before she answered.

"No, I suppose you aren't." she replied with some hesitation. "But I still can't believe you've been _living_ together…I mean, Harry, think of all the things…"

"I know, I know." Harry nodded emphatically. "Do you think I could forget? But if we're living together, and there's no restriction on either of us forcing us either to behave or to obey, you know I must know something that changes all of that. I can't tell you what it is, but Hermione; believe me when I say there is no danger here. This is not who you recall."

"I want to believe you," she lowered her wand a bit, "but…it's so hard to see how this could be all right."

"It is." He moved forward then, slowly enclosing her free hand in his. "Remember all the times Ron and I trusted you were leading us the right way without knowing half of what you did?"

"But I would always _tell_ you why…" Hermione looked from her prisoner to Harry, to their joined hands. "I gave you a reason to believe."

"Hermione, you're the most logical between the three of us." Harry told her slowly, "if I doubted, would they be here?" and then he leaned in, whispering something in her ear which caused her face to clear immediately.

"You're right." She lowered her wand and released the bonds. "I'm sorry about your face."

"I was in no position to enter a beauty contest in any case." The freed prisoner bent their wrists to loosen them up.

"I feel a fool." Hermione blushed deeply, casting a quick healing charm on the bruised area. "Let me make it up to you. I could prepare dinner, and then maybe the three of us could have a chat."

"That sounds fine." Harry smiled at her, his breath going back to normal now that Hermione knew the truth.

----------

"You're back." Draco sighed in relief as Harry swept into the room. "I thought you'd change your mind."

"Of course not." Harry snorted, "I have good news,"

"The eye?" Draco guessed, looking at the briefcase Harry was opening and shuffling through.

"Yeah," he grinned and held up a roll of parchment. "She was able to extract it. I've already watched it once with her last night, and it isn't the best quality, but it would be pretty difficult to believe you were the one behind it."

"No trip through the Pensieve this time?" Draco asked, crossing to Harry's side of the table and standing over him in curiosity.

"She extracted the images into this parchment." Harry explained, "there's no sound, because as magic as it is, it was still an eye. It's something like a Wizarding photograph taken in low lighting."

"Okay, sure." Draco shrugged in agreement as Harry unrolled the parchment, revealing a neatly cropped picture in which Mad Eye Moody was not visible, though he could see about three shadowy figures. "We're watching from his point of view."

"Exactly," Harry confirmed. "Obviously, those are Death Eaters, and _there_, keep your eye on that one." He pointed to one figure that moved closer and came into slightly better focus, his pale skin luminescent in the dark, his head bald and reminiscent of a snake.

"The Dark Lord." Draco couldn't help the shiver that passed through him as they watched the pale figure pull out a wand and shoot a stream of green in the direction they were looking from. After that, the image went black and then cycled back to the beginning. "Well, I guess he was sick of having Moody defeat his best Death Eaters." Draco shrugged after they had watched it through one more time and Harry had hurriedly rolled it back up, not eager to watch Voldemort kill someone over and over again.

"I don't doubt it." Harry put the parchment back in his briefcase. "Well, that's that."

"Which one will we do next?" Draco wanted to know. Harry stood up so that they were facing each other, and cupped his cheek gently, kissing his brow line.

"That's something of a problem." Harry admitted. "I haven't been able to find anyone who knows about the others. We may have to use Legilimency to extract them, but I don't want to do it unless you're sure you want to take the risk. You might not be able to handle more memory tampering, to tell you the truth. It could be that if I'd uncovered ten of them, if you'd even witnessed that many, you'd be fine still. However, even trying to dig up one might be too much for you. It depends on how thoroughly your father or whoever else was tampering with you buried the memories."

"It's only four, I think I can manage." Draco shrugged after a short moment of consideration. "Is there something you need me to do to make it easier?"

"When the time comes, you'll just need to concentrate on _your_ memory of what happened, because that will get me as close as possible to the truth." Harry explained, brushing his hand down over the column of Draco's neck. "But we won't do that today. I have to tell you…I've tried every avenue I could think of to find more witnesses. I don't want to lose you when we're so close…"

"You won't lose me." Draco answered confidently. "If my father's rough handling didn't permanently damage me, nothing you can do will make me fall into myself."

"Draco," Harry's chest hurt to think of what he'd do if anything went wrong, if Draco was no longer Draco, but a broken shell of the man in front of him. Suddenly, he wrapped his arms around the emaciated form, holding him close and wishing there was some way he could help Draco without risking him. When he'd started this, he'd known where it most likely would lead, and yet…things were different now. Draco had become irreplaceable to him, he'd become much more than a symbol of justice, an object of sympathy, a former schoolmate fallen from grace. "I'm afraid." He admitted in the barest of whispers.

"That makes me feel better, since you'll be doing all the wand work." Draco teased lightly, his own arms wrapping around Harry as he nuzzled the other man's throat. "Maybe you should bring in Granger to do it so you don't crack my head in half."

"That's actually not a bad idea." Harry smiled slightly, but his hands were only stopped from shaking by pressing them deep into Draco's prison robes. "She's better at that sort of thing than me, though I have been practicing since before I started this."

"Are you comfortable letting someone else help me?" Draco asked, a teasing half-grin on his face, "You always need to be the hero."

"I learned a long time ago that there's a line between idiocy and heroism." Harry answered, kissing his jaw line.

"Really? I thought they were simply synonymous with you."

To be continued…


	10. Chapter 10

Shades of Truth

Chapter 10

"What is that?" Harry peered into the bubbling pot on the stove that greeted him when he entered the kitchen. His guest was sitting at the table, nose in a book, with a cup of steaming tea in one hand.

"She's making dinner." Was the delayed response after a leisurely sip of tea. Harry blinked, waiting for a further explanation, but all he got was a continued silence as the tea was returned to its spot and a page was slowly turned.

"Hermione?" He guessed after a continued silence. The answer was almost immediate as the witch in question swept into the room drying her hands on a towel.

"Oh, you're home!" she smiled brightly. "Sorry to intrude, but Ron made this delicious stew last night, and I thought I'd bring some over for the pair of you."

"Where is Ron?" he asked, slightly worried and confused. "I mean…he's not here, is he?"

"I'm not _stupid_, Harry." She shook her head and turned to the other occupant of the room. "Didn't I tell you? He always does this." No response was offered besides a slight grunt of agreement. "Of _course_ I wouldn't bring him over."

"I was just asking." Harry backed away from the pot so she could stir the contents. "Does he know you're here…or…"

"He's not my mother." Hermione grumbled, "Would you get a few bowls out?" she glanced at him over her shoulder and then turned to the table. "You may want to put that away if you want to eat."

"Are you eating with us?" Harry asked as he opened a cupboard and began removing dishes.

"Unless that's too much of an intrusion." Her tone was sharp, and Harry decided that perhaps he would be better off if he stopped asking her questions, or perhaps if he just stopped talking at all. Just then, his houseguest swept past to put away the book and hissed an affirmation of this at him.

"Could you stop aggravating her?"

Harry suddenly wished he'd stopped over at Azkaban instead of coming straight home from the Ministry, where'd he'd spent most of the day poring over the official files for the remaining cases, hoping to find something that would give him a lead. It had been fruitless of course; he'd been over those files dozens of times already. He had written an entreaty to an individual whom he suspected might have been present during at least one of the deaths, one of the very few remaining first generation Death Eaters. However, he wasn't sure that his pleas would work, though he hoped that the fact that everything he was doing was for Draco's sake would convince the person to offer something. Personally, he believed they might be guilty of one of the crimes, thus causing her to hide away from his requests for help, as Death Eaters tended not to be very self-sacrificing in Harry's experience.

Silently, he returned to the table and set out the three bowls before getting spoons and glasses as well. He made a point not to get in Hermione's way, as she seemed by turns to be acting either the picture of contented domesticity or to be slamming things with unnecessary force.

_Ron and she must have had a fight. That, or the pleasure of an afternoon with my houseguest was enough to push her over the edge._

Just then, the third member of their party returned from putting the book away and they sat down to eat in what may have been companionable silence, or may have been abject fear of setting Hermione off again. Harry wondered if that was the reason for the lack of conversation when he'd come home, and figured it was likely, though he was unlikely to get an admission of this from either of them.

After they finished eating, Harry watched Hermione clear the dishes with brisk efficiency, and while he was deciding whether he'd get yelled at if he helped her clean up, the other left the room so quickly it was as if only the two of them had been there all evening. Sighing heavily, he picked up the large pot of stew and brought it to the counter.

"There's not a lot left, but I think I have something you can put this in…or you could just borrow the pot." He spoke up as he watched her wash the bowls by hand with more concentration than the task actually required. "If you want to take this back with you, I mean. We barely ever use this one." He was babbling, he realized, but he never knew how to handle women when they were upset. He'd known Hermione forever, and he still couldn't read her moods very well. "Or, well, you probably have something you brought it in, obviously, so I can just put it in there if you want." There was a long silence while she scrubbed furiously at a spoon that was long since clean. "It was very good." He attempted.

"Can I ask you something?" she turned around, her hands covered in soap and water, the spoon clutched tightly between them. "If Ron told you something, but he asked you to keep it secret, and it concerned me…would you tell me?"

Harry didn't know what to say. He felt like there was no right answer, and he could think of dozens of exceptions to either way that he could respond. He wracked his brain for anything that Ron or Hermione might have said or done that this could be about, but he realized that he'd been spending so much time on his own troubles, and on trying to help Draco, that he had only rarely seen either of them lately.

"Hermione…is there something you, um, need to talk about?" he asked her, and a sudden thought occurred to him, "Is this about what we're doing? Keeping it secret from Ron? Because, I understand if you want to tell him, but if you could just keep it quiet until I finish everything up. I know he'll know eventually, but if he knows that you're involved…I couldn't let this come between you."

"What?" she looked momentarily confused, but then she laughed a bit hysterically, setting the spoon down and wiping her hands on a towel he offered her. "No, no, it's not that. I'm sorry, I must seem crazy…I just…"

"Look, you can leave those," Harry motioned to the dishes. "Do you want some tea or something? I know I'm no good at these things, but if I can tell you anything you need to know, I will. Though to tell you the truth, I can't think of any big secrets Ron's keeping from you."

"I…yeah, some tea would be good." She nodded, her face tight the way it usually was when she was trying not to burst into tears. Harry hoped she wouldn't start crying, he was horrible at comforting crying women. He always felt like he was just making it worse.

"I'll put the kettle on." He turned to do just that and she wandered to the table after turning off the tap. She sat down, fidgeting and pursing her lips together as she waited for Harry to come sit with her. When he brought the tea over, she set it aside and nearly pounced on him with her first question.

"Do you think Ron's seeing someone else?" it was out so suddenly that Harry thought he'd imagined the question, and it was so patently ridiculous he wondered if he was really supposed to answer.

"Um…no." he finally replied when it was clear she was seriously waiting for an answer.

"Are you sure, though?" she pushed forward, her body leaning toward him the way she always sat when she was interrogating someone. "Even if he hasn't told you for sure who it is, or if he is, do you think he could be?"

"No." Harry's answer was swifter this time. "Even if he could do something like that, he's horrible at keeping secrets."

"Well, do you think he really wants to marry me?" Hermione asked, blowing on her tea and fiddling with the handle of the cup. "I mean…do you think that when he asked me, he had thought it through, or do you think…because of all that happened during the war, and…and other things, he just suddenly decided to do it, and didn't really think about it until later?"

"What, because of the war…making him think you could die or something?" Harry frowned, having a hard time following her line of reason. "Or…like he was happy that it was over? Is that what you think?"

"Well…I mean," Hermione was clearly a bit uncomfortable at this point, as though she was debating whether or not she should say something, "what if he thought it was just the right thing to do at the time, and the situation…is different now?"

"I'm sorry, Hermione, I'm not really following." Harry shook his head. She opened her mouth as though she was going to say something, closed it again, opened it once more, and then started crying, thick tears rolling down her cheeks as she furiously scrubbed them away. "Hermione? I'm sorry…I really don't know what you're asking me, but I know that Ron loves you, and that he wants to marry you. He loves being with you."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to start…I know you hate this." Hermione scrubbed at her face and Harry looked around for something she could wipe her face with and settled for a napkin which he handed her. She took it with a half-hearted chuckle and dabbed at her eyes. "It's just…I wish Ginny were here, she was the only one I could really…I'm sorry, Harry, you're a good listener, and you're a good friend, but there are some things…you just need another girl."

"It's okay, I'm not offended." Harry ignored the twist of pain at Ginny's name. "I know I'm not really good at figuring these situations out, or really understanding these sorts of things, but…if you want to tell me something or if you just…need to stay here or something for a couple days, I'll do whatever I can to help. Ron's my best friend, and so are you."

"No…it's okay, I just need to calm down." Hermione swiped at her eyes. "It's not such a big deal, and it was so long ago, I shouldn't get so worked up." She took a deep breath while Harry patiently waited for her to continue. "When Ron and I got engaged, we thought that I was pregnant."

Harry had no idea what to say or do at this point. He vaguely wondered why he had never been told this before, because it seemed like something Ron would have mentioned, or at least hinted at. He was horrible at keeping secrets, like Harry had said.

_Maybe better than I thought._

"I feel stupid now, thinking about it." she continued after he didn't respond at all to her revelation. "I was late, and then my test was positive, but…those can be wrong sometimes. But Ron was so excited when I told him, like with that it would make up for everything that had gone wrong during the war, all the people we'd lost. His parents, Ginny, Fred, Charlie, all our friends. Only Bill and George and Percy are left, and they're not…really the same after what happened. I was an only child, so I guess it isn't the same for me, but still, if I lost my parents…I think he was thinking if we could start a family, he'd feel better, he'd forget about all of them. And I was glad that he was so excited, that it gave him something to look forward to. He got that job at the Ministry, we moved in together, and then I found out…I found out that I wasn't really…I never had been. False positive, and probably the stress of everything made me late, and I probably wouldn't have thought anything of it, but Ron and I were…well, obviously. Sometimes the answers aren't as obvious and…"

Harry felt like he was definitely supposed to say something, but he couldn't think of anything that would make this all right, or of any way to respond to what she'd said that wouldn't sound foolish or silly. "Why…why didn't you say anything before?" he finally managed, though it sounded rather futile.

"Ron and I…he wanted to tell everything right away, but I said we should wait until we were a few months in, because a lot of times…things can go wrong." She gave a forced laugh. "I make it sound almost like I really _was_ pregnant and I lost the baby, but I never was. It still felt that way when the doctor told me, though. And there was no reason, really, after we found out."

"Well…" Harry licked his lips, "I mean, if it bothers you, you should talk about it."

"I know." She sighed heavily, "But I don't want to load you down with my problems, and I could never talk to my mother about those sorts of things…she probably thinks I'm still a virgin."

"If you guys…if you wanted a baby so much, why don't you try again?" Harry asked, but then immediately felt foolish. "Or…have you been? I mean…"

"No, we haven't." Hermione frowned deeply, "I brought it up once, but Ron got so upset, he said we should wait until we're married. We weren't _trying_ the first time, it just happened." Tears started dripping down her cheeks again. "I just want to yell at him sometimes…we both want kids, we both want to be married first, we're engaged, what's stopping us? Every time, every time, it's him. I'll pick a date, he'll tell me something that's wrong with that one, some meeting or game or something…I'm usually more booked up than he is, but can I tell him that? He'd explode. It doesn't really bother him that I do something…that pays more and has more requirements, I don't think, but you know how proud he is."

"Is that what you guys fought about…or, I mean, did you fight?" Harry flushed, wishing he were better at this sort of thing.

"Yes, we did, and yes, that's what it was about." Hermione gave him a sad smile, setting down the napkin in her lap and rubbing at the corner of one eye with her thumb. "I told him that if it's so hard for him to get a free day, _he_ could pick the date, and he brushed me off…I got upset. I asked him if there was someone else. He blew up. I don't know if he's come home yet, but I can't bear going back to an empty place, so I came here instead. Sorry."

"It's no problem." Harry assured her. "Hermione…I'm sorry I didn't really…when you told me that it was bothering you, Ron not setting a date. I didn't think it was that bad, but if you guys have all these issues, and it's getting you so upset. Would you like me to talk to him?"

"I wish _he'd_ talk to me. Just tell me why." She heaved a deep sigh, "If he has someone else, or if he doesn't really love me, or want to marry me, or if he's changed his mind about having kids, whatever it is…I wish he'd just tell me. I feel like I keep trying to go forward, but he's pushing against me, and we're stuck in one place. We're not going anywhere like this, and it feels like we never will."

"It'll work out." Harry told her, "He's bad at saying it, but he loves you, I know. His family was hit hard, and now that makes you more important to him. He seems normal, but he relies on you, and if you left, he'd be pretty messed up."

"And if he comes home to an empty place." Hermione continued. "He'll be just as crushed as I would be." She leaned forward and kissed Harry on the cheek. "Yeah, I know. I'll go home now."

He stood up and hugged her, walked her to the door and watched her leave, and didn't realize until he climbed into bed that he had said something helpful after all. Maybe he was getting the hang of women. Or at least Hermione.

To be Continued…


	11. Chapter 11

Shades of Truth

Chapter 11

"Are you sure you're up to this?" Harry asked Hermione as she pored over the file he'd brought with them. "Because if you're not well, we can do this another day."

"Please, Harry, you know me better than that. I don't let my personal issues affect my work." She noticed the way he was looking at her and she flushed slightly. "This isn't the same thing. This is a favor. And besides, Ron and I are doing fine."

"Set a date?" he asked, unable to resist a small grin.

"Shut up, you." She shot him a slight glare. "I thought you were supposed to be sympathetic. You've been spending too much time around Malfoy."

"I was just trying to make light." He shrugged. "To make you feel better about it."

"I appreciate the effort," she patted his shoulder. "You're a bigger help than you know. Thanks. But I'm going to give him a few days before I try to start in on that topic again."

"Good idea." Harry nodded, and rose to his feet immediately as Draco entered the room. He moved to meet the other man as the door locked again, but stopped himself when he immediately recalled that Hermione was here, and she had no idea that things between Draco and him had taken such a personal turn. The blonde man gave him a look of confusion that melted into understanding and cold acceptance. Harry wanted to rush over and hold him, to assure him that things between them were the same, but that it was all so new he'd not told anyone, not even Hermione. However, it didn't seem like the best plan to do that while she watched, so he took his seat again, intensely aware of the fact that Hermione's eyes were on him, her face curious.

"Are you alright, Harry?" she asked him in a low tone.

"Just a bit anxious." He admitted, which was at least partially true. He tried to give Draco a look that would convey his hopes and fears and feelings, but the grey gaze would not meet his. It was trained on his companion.

"Your hair." Draco finally spoke. "It's different."

"As is yours." She cocked her head to one side, not perturbed in the least by his attention. "I remember it being much shinier."

"I remember yours being much duller." He replied. Harry couldn't tell whether it was a jab or not, but Hermione smiled brightly at him.

"And much larger, if you'll recall," she held out her hands about her head to bring to mind the bush of hair that had surrounded her head in her school years. "These days, I'm able to take the extra time. Hopefully, we'll find something today that will get your own hair back a bit closer to its former glory."

"You flatter me." Draco gave the tiniest smile. "But you're right, of course. It was quite glorious."

"Now then," Harry spoke up then, feeling distinctly like he didn't belong, and that something had just taken place which he had no way of understanding. "Let's get to it."

"Yes, Harry told me I would need to concentrate on _my_ memory of the death, such as it is. He said that would get you closer to what you need." Draco wove his fingers together on the tabletop and leaned a bit forward.

"Yes, exactly so." Hermione gave Harry an odd look before turning back to Draco. "Did he tell you about the risks?"

"Yes, but as I told him, after all the mind fucks I've been through, if you'll excuse the language, I'm sure a few more won't hurt." Draco answered her in a perfectly calm tone. Harry remembered the way Draco had acted toward Hermione in school, and he wondered how this was possible, but he supposed that a lot of things had changed for this man since then, just as they had for Harry. "So then, shall we proceed?"

"You'll want to concentrate. It's best if you close your eyes to help you picture what happened in your adjusted memory, and then recite the events to us as accurately as possible. Do you know the feeling of Legilimency?" she asked.

"A bit like a garden trowel in my head," he nodded.

"Well put." She turned to Harry. "Do you have anything to add, Harry?"

"Only," he paused, looking down at his hands, looking over at Draco's, wishing that they were touching, instead of being separated by this table. "I'll be here the whole time…and I hope it's a success."

"Go ahead, Malfoy." Hermione held her wand ready, and Draco's eyes fell closed. Harry looked at his hands, fingers unlaced now, palms pressed flat against the table, and knuckles the slightest bit whiter than the digits themselves. He was afraid. Hermione couldn't see it, she looked as though she thought everything was going fine, but the words came back to his head.

"_He wasn't concerned about his situation until you came, and now he suddenly wants to live. You give him reason to hope for something better, and then you ignore it."_

"_He needs a reason to fight."_

"Wait." He stood up suddenly, and Draco's eyes flew open in surprise. "Hermione, could you give us a moment alone before we start?" Hermione stared at him in a way that clearly said she had no idea what was going on, but that she fully intended to know everything before she went home that night, and he'd be hard-pressed to stop her from doing just that. She stood up after a moment and nodded sharply, sweeping out of the room.

"What was that?" Draco asked in shock as soon as she closed the door.

"I'm sorry." Harry lowered his head, staring at his hands before looking back across the table at Draco. "I…I didn't tell her yet, and I didn't know what to do, so I panicked."

"What?" Draco scowled at him.

"About us. I didn't tell her…about us." Harry explained, feeling his face suffuse with blood. "I just...it's so new still, and it's so mixed up in this, and I know she wouldn't approve of me doing this while I'm working on your case, and I've never even liked another guy that way, so it would be a lot to tell, and she has enough on her plate right now."

"Oh." Draco replied after a long pause. "That's fine, there's nothing really to tell her, is there?"

"What?" Harry felt as though a weight had just been dropped on his chest. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I don't need your pity." Draco replied readily, his tone still as calm and detached as when he'd been preparing for Legilimency. "Don't worry about hurting my feelings, because I certainly won't..." he trailed off and looked up at Harry, who had lunged around the table and was suddenly looming over him. For a moment, he looked terrifying, like an avenging angel come to cast judgment, but in an instant, he was on his knees, and Draco had to look down to meet his eyes.

"Do you think this is pity, what I feel for you?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Do you think I held myself back when you came in because I was ashamed of you? Do you think that I'm not worried about what we're doing today? In the war, I fought dozens of Death Eaters, and dueled Voldemort more than once, but today, I am more terrified than I've ever been, because if this goes wrong, I won't have you, now or ever. Are you saying that I never did anyway, and never will? Because I need to know if we're together or not."

"Don't…don't kneel like that." Draco responded after a long wait.

"Don't ignore me!" Harry hissed, and his hands reached for Draco's, pulling both pairs into his grimy lap. "Don't change the subject. Not this time. Just tell me the truth."

"The truth?" Draco gave an airy laugh. "The truth is that you're the only reason I have for trying to get through this, and if my mother knew about us, she'd disown me, my so-called friends would forget I existed, and I'd _really_ have to rely on you then. And I tell myself it's stupid to risk so much, but all I can think is that it's worth everything to have this chance." He shook his head briefly. "So don't _you_ depend on me. You're the stable one, here. At least you aren't in prison."

"Draco." Harry raised a hand to the other's cheek and felt his breath catch as Draco's face slowly moved toward his for a gentle kiss, brief and sweet. "Draco, what are we doing?" he asked, before leaning in for a much more desperate kiss. He felt something wet on his cheeks as he pulled away, but he couldn't tell if the tears were his or Draco's or both. "Please don't leave me."

"I won't. Not on purpose, at least." Draco gave him a genuine smile then. "Are you really afraid?"

"Terrified."

"I'm glad Granger's doing all the work, then." Draco teased him briefly. "But I'm still glad you came."

"Should I bring her back in, then?" Harry asked, and Draco nodded as he stood and their hands separated. He crossed the room and opened the door, letting in a very put-out looking Hermione. The look on her face made Harry quite sure that though he had not told her anything of his feelings for Draco; he would be saying something on the subject to her before they parted ways today.

"Are we ready, then?" she asked in an overly calm voice. Harry could tell she was irritated whenever she used that tone. Great.

"Yes, I was just gathering my thoughts." Draco told her, and he closed his eyes, immediately reciting a story that Harry had read several times already, in which Remus Lupin turned on the werewolf he was spying on, Fenrir Greyback, and was thrown into the Malfoy dungeons to be dealt with later. According to Draco's version, the former professor tried to escape and in the chase, Draco cast the killing curse on the older man. During the recitation, Hermione was staring at Malfoy with concentrated intent, waiting for the perfect moment before she used Legilimency, went blank for several minutes, and then signaled for Harry to perform the extraction.

"Is this it?" he asked as he bottled the memory he had taken.

"One way to be sure." She indicated his waiting Pensieve and they both glanced at Draco, whose eyes were fluttering open. "Though I can tell you what _I_ saw on the other side of the modified memory. Draco was there alright, so were his father and Avery, and another Death Eater. Nott, I think. When Lupin broke out of his cell, they ran to catch him. Draco's father caught him, and he told Draco to finish him, but he couldn't do it, so his father called him names, yelled at him a bit more than was strictly necessary, and Avery took the kill."

"I like that. Can we just _not_ go in and say that we did?" Draco yawned heavily, his head nodding against his chest. Harry gave Hermione a concerned look.

"Should he be like that?" Harry asked, and Hermione nodded.

"It's not a common procedure, but the records do say it's extremely taxing, and the other times I've had to perform it, the patient was very sluggish for several hours afterward." She confirmed.

"I don't think he should be going in the Pensieve like that." Harry opined.

"We don't need to go in." Hermione emptied the vial, muttered something and did an extremely tricky bit of wand work. Suddenly, the scene was cast in three dimensional miniature before their eyes, as though everyone was standing on the rim of the Pensieve. "We can watch it this way."

"I like her." Draco offered, yawning hugely again. "Why can't you do that?"

"Because, I'm cleverer than him by half." Hermione answered with a teasing twist in her tone. The three of them watched as the scene she had described took place and ended with Draco collapsing to the ground under a Cruciatus curse from his father, at which point it all faded to black. "That's all I got. But it will definitely exonerate him of that one, at least."

"Thanks, Hermione, you're a—"

A loud snore interrupted them, and they turned to see that Draco was now completely asleep in his seat, slumped over it wearily. They looked at each other and both burst into laughter.

"I told you he'd be sluggish." She told him as he crossed the table to attempt to wake him. "Do you think I should try an Ennervate on him?"

"No, I'd rather wake him naturally." Harry shook his head. "He's had enough tinkering for one day. Should we wait a couple weeks before we try this again?"

"At least. I've been told it's one week minimum, so two weeks should give him a good recovery time, but I'd like you to make sure he's back to full function at least three full days before we do it again." She advised him.

"Sounds good." Harry was still gently jostling the other man, who was mostly unresponsive. "I'll be out in a bit, why don't you wait for me outside?"

"Oh, I'll be waiting for sure." She gave him a smile that let him know she had not forgotten about what had happened before. He rubbed at his temples as she left the room and then bent back to his task.

"Draco, wake up." He shook the other man's shoulder lightly, but he only moaned slightly. "Come on, then." He realized that he was either going to have to shake much harder or try something else. An idea struck him, and he leaned in to kiss Draco, but the mouth that had seemed slack responded immediately. Harry almost leapt back in surprise as Draco started chuckling at his surprise. "You faker!"

"I wanted a kiss goodbye, that's all." He shrugged, rubbing at one eye. "Though I must admit, that was rather draining."

"We got what we needed, though." Harry smiled as Draco stood and stretched. "Hermione said you're off the hook for a couple of weeks."

"But I'm sure you'll come to check that I'm doing all right." Draco gave him a mock serious face. "Doctor's orders and all that."

"Indeed." Harry kissed him softly. "She's waiting for me out there."

"Good luck with that."

"She's going to find out about us."

"I know."

"Are you alright with that?"

"Are you?"

Harry answered him with another kiss.

To be Continued…


	12. Chapter 12

Shades of Truth

Chapter 12

"So," Hermione had insisted they go out for coffee after Harry rejoined her outside the interview room, and had remained casual and friendly until they finally received their drinks, at which time she switched into interrogation mode. "What was that all about? What did you need to tell Malfoy that I couldn't be allowed to hear?"

"I didn't want him to go through with it if he didn't want to, so I thought I'd check that he wanted to do the Legilimency one last time before we did it…just in case, you know." Harry didn't know why he even bothered to try and keep his secrets. She'd find this out, just as she'd found everything else so far.

"That's very sweet." She gave him a terse smile. "Now tell me what it was really about. Is there something else going on here? It's not like you haven't kept enough things hidden from me that I've found out in due time _anyway­._" Her words eerily echoed his concerns. "What, more dead people you're harboring? Perhaps you're planning on starting up a tea shop with Pansy Parkinson? Or maybe you never killed Voldemort, and you two plan to take the British countryside by storm with your hit vaudeville show? Seriously, Harry, nothing you can tell me is going to be more preposterous than the things I've already found out in the past month, and you're only going to irritate me when I have to figure it out on my own instead of having you tell me straight out, so why don't you just come out with it?"

There was something to be said for that, Harry considered. Now if he could just think of an easy way to say what there was between Draco and him. He took his time emptying a third packet of creamer into his coffee before he offered any response. "You know how you and Ron are?"

"What?" Hermione was thrown off by his words, so he pressed onward.

"What if you hadn't always been friends, because you were in different houses or something like that, and you didn't really see him as anything but a schoolmate or a rival, and then you weren't even on the same sides during the war, and you got to know each other later, but it was under circumstances where even if you still started to have feelings for him, it wasn't really technically _appropriate_, do you think you two would have still ended up together?" Harry had barely paused during his drawn out hypothetical question, but now that he'd finished, he buried his face in his coffee.

"That's the weirdest…" Harry could literally hear the penny drop, and could imagine precisely the look on Hermione's face as she made a horrible rasping, choking noise. He glanced up once to check the quality of his imagination and found it to be rather accurate. Her face was flushed, her nostrils flaring, and he couldn't tell whether she was embarrassed, enraged, confused, or just settling for aspects of all emotions. She leaned forward so far Harry thought she was actually going to bite his head off. "You're sleeping with Malfoy?" she hissed in scandalized shock.

"No!" his reply was so vehement that he garnered the attention of most of the café. It was a few moments before he felt comfortable continuing. "No, we haven't even mentioned…we've only kissed." She stared at him expectantly. "Several times." Her eyebrows raised almost into her hairline. "But nothing else, really."

"I can't believe you're sleeping with Malfoy." She shook her head and took a sip of her coffee as he buried his face in his hands in frustration.

"I told you, we haven't!" he hissed, but she didn't seem to be listening to him.

"If this gets out, your case will be lost before it gets to court. No one's going to believe you if you're sleeping with him." She heaved a deep sigh. "I'm helping you as best I can, but you can't expect miracles, Harry. And like things aren't already going to be rough enough with Ron as it is, how do you expect me to tell him that?"

"Firstly, it won't get out; it's not anyone's business. Secondly, we _aren't_ sleeping together, so stop saying that. And thirdly, if Ron still wants to talk to me after the trial, and things go well with Draco and I after that, _I'll_ tell him." Harry told her firmly.

"No, yeah, I'll tell him." She replied after a moment. "That way no one gets throttled. And even if you really _aren't _sleeping together, you still shouldn't be carrying on a torrid love affair in the Azkaban interview chamber. Especially not when you should be working on the prisoner's appeal."

"I know that, of course I know that." Harry countered. "After we first kissed, I felt so guilty, like I was taking advantage of him, I put everything with him on hold for a week, but Hermione, he _wants_ to be with me, he's said it plainly. And it's still really new and all, but he just…it seems so _right_."

"Harry," Hermione sighed deeply before reaching forward to cover his hand with her own. "I know you wouldn't do anything that could hurt someone else, but think about this carefully. Even if you get out of the courts before this gets out, it _will_ get out. You're Harry Potter, Hero of the Wizarding World. You don't get to have secrets, not for long. I know you aren't concerned with your own popularity, but Draco will suffer more than you anyway. His mother will disown him. You know what sort of woman she is."

"I know." He nodded heavily.

"And his friends will all turn on him." She continued. "If you care about him so much, can't you see he's better off without this?"

"Maybe." Harry took a deep drink and set his cup back down, staring into the murky liquid for a long moment before he looked up at Hermione again. "If Ron was better off without you, would you leave him?"

"No." she admitted. "And that's why whatever you choose to do, I'll be behind you."

"Thanks." He smiled at her warmly.

"I still think it's stupid of you."

----------

Harry just wanted to go straight to bed when he went home, but he saw immediately that his hopes would be fruitless.

"We have a guest." His housemate greeted him, and Harry barely suppressed a groan as he hung up his cloak.

"We seem to have a lot of those lately." He replied instead. "At least you aren't tied up this time. I'll take that as a good sign."

"I let her in." was his only response as they went to the kitchen, where a pale woman sat with a ramrod straight back, sipping tea delicately from her cup. She was dressed all in black, and Harry couldn't tell if she was still in mourning for her husband or if she was just trying to be fashionable.

"Narcissa, I'm pleased you've come to visit." He made a polite little bow for her, knowing how she valued such niceties. "I have something I need to ask of you."

"I know what you want, but there's only one that I have left to offer." She reached into her robes and produced an elegantly thin vial of shimmering memory. "I simply wasn't present for most of their activities."

"I understand." Harry sat down across from her, happily accepting the memory. "It's still very kind of you, and I'm sure it will be just as helpful as the Fleur memory. Thank you."

"You knew?" she tilted her head to one side and smiled lightly. "I suppose we fancied ourselves unrecognizable in our robes, but you, of all people, would be able to see what was hidden under the hoods."

"I suspected," Harry shrugged noncommittally, pleased to know that he had identified the situation successfully. "May I ask which death this one records?" he patted his robe carefully where he had stowed the vial.

"My niece's." she answered with a sharp nod before taking a short sip of tea. "It was tragic, how many families turned on each other during the war, though it was certainly no surprise to see a disowned Mudblood take your side of things."

"Quite." Harry tried not to be upset with her. This was Draco's mother. He was certainly not his father's son, so he had always thought that in a private interview, she would resemble her son more strongly in behavior and temperament.

_Remember what a bigot he was in school, especially toward Hermione. He had to have learned _that_ somewhere._

Draco had not often spoken of his mother since they had begun working toward his freedom. Once he had referred to her ability to delude herself, but Harry had assumed that was mostly a jest. She did not seem very much like him, now that he was able to speak to her face to face, but at the same time, he wasn't acting very much like himself in the interest of gaining her assistance.

"Well then, I should be going, I suppose." She stood up, and Harry rose as well, wondering momentarily if Draco would laugh to see how politely his mother was being treated.

"If you have anything else to offer me, I would certainly appreciate it." He told her as all three of them walked to the door.

"I would be happy to help my son, certainly. He is all I have left, tragically." She dabbed at her eyes with a lacy kerchief, though Harry did not see any wetness at all. "You are so kind to help him, I would like to say, that despite your birth, I would quite like to think of you as a friend of our family."

"How thoughtful of you." Harry took nearly a full minute to respond to the barbed offer. What was _wrong_ with this woman?

"Think nothing of it." She smiled brightly as though he had begun weeping with gratefulness at her offer. "It would not be the first Mudblood my family took in." Harry tried to force a smile as she let her hand be kissed lightly by the third member of their party before she took her leave. As soon as the door closed he turned an incredulous face toward his companion.

"What _is_ she?" was all he could manage.

"A Black, a Malfoy, an antiquity of sorts, surely, but her heart is good beneath all the prejudice ingrained in her."

"I just don't understand how Draco could be such a…well, he's obviously not normal, but I don't see where he inherited his conscience from. His father killed as many people, if not more, than Voldemort himself, and his mother is such a self-righteous bigot." He made a face as though he'd been force fed a lemon, and the other shrugged as they returned to the kitchen.

"I think disparity is easy to spot when you have one whose faults you're so quick to gloss over, and then a pair whose faults are the only things you can see. It isn't a fair comparison unless you look at all of them from the same point of view."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry asked, helping clear up the tea and biscuits Narcissa had been nibbling at when he came home. "He's completely different from either of them."

"And yet he shares many qualities with his parents as well, if you look in the right places. His mother, for instance, never killed a single prisoner or Muggle in either war. She never went into the battles if there was any way to help it. She may think that Muggles and Mudbloods are lesser beings, but she still doesn't want any part in their deaths. She became adept at _watching_ them die, but that was the most Lucius could get out of her. Lucius may seem a bloodthirsty wretch in comparison, but he is exceedingly clever and charismatic. He inspired loyalty in his comrades with very little effort, even though he had something of a temper. Both are instances of traits the Malfoys passed to their son, though in him, they seem different to you. It is hard to compare those we do not care for with those we hold dear without making some gross errors."

"Wh…was Hermione here before?" Harry tried to figure out how she could have come back here and gone before he'd even arrived home and had a hard time seeing how it was possible.

"No, I'm able to figure some things out for myself, as antiquated as I myself have become." There was a long pause. "I think it may be a good thing."

"From you, I'll take that as a full blessing."

To be Continued…


	13. Chapter 13

Shades of Truth

Chapter 13

"I'm busy just now." As always, the sound of Fenrir Greyback's voice made Draco's skin crawl. He glanced over to see if Harry was just as perturbed, but the other man looked rather stoic and pensive. "And anyhow, Lucius told me to keep the boy until he was a _fully _capable servant of the Dark Lord. At this point, he is as soft as his mother still."

"Don't mistake me, Greyback." Narcissa was using a tone of voice Draco had rarely heard from her, and it had never been directed at him, though she had once or twice turned it on Lucius. "I came here for my son, and I will not leave until I have him. Whatever his shortcomings, I would never turn him over to your gentle care. And as little as you respect me, I assure you that I respect you even less."

"As though you'd do anything if I refused." Fenrir growled a horrible laugh. "Your sister is dead, and your husband placed him here. Who else is there to defend you and your cute little boy?"

"I will," at first, Draco thought his mother had spoken without moving her lips, but a pair moved into the scene projected over the Pensieve Harry and he were watching. One of them was himself, looking rather bedraggled. Tugging him along was Nymphadora Tonks, rage making her eyes glow. "You monster, keeping a boy in a cage. Now, before I kill you, tell me what you did with Remus, and I _might­_ make things easier for you.

Narcissa immediately bundled Draco up in a swift hug before pulling her wand out to stand at Tonks' side. "Thank you, Nymph—"

"Don't bother, I couldn't leave my worst enemy at _his_ tender mercies. I did it for the boy's sake, not yours." She didn't turn her eyes to meet Narcissa's, but Draco didn't blame her. One did not duel a deranged werewolf without a bit of caution.

"You think I'm afraid of you?" he had no wand out, just his clawed fingers and the threat of his bite. "I could kill all three of you without breaking a sweat."

"Leave, this is between him and I," Tonks made a shooing motion with her free hand, and at the same moment Fenrir sprang forward, going straight for her throat. Her Stunner barely phased him as he gnashed his teeth, tearing at the arms that were blocking access to her throat with both hands. Just as Narcissa turned to flee, they witnessed her accidental slip, leaving her throat open for his eager mouth. Her scream was cut short by a horrible gurgling, and then the scene faded, since Narcissa was now well away from the room where Tonks fell.

"That isn't quite as I remembered it." Draco offered, his voice a bit weaker than usual. "But now that I think of it, I remember some _talk_ of me staying with Greyback, my mother being upset…I guess my father didn't feel it was important to remember my time with the werewolves. Maybe worried I would question his parenting methods." Harry was silent, prodding at the liquid in the Pensieve with his wand.

"I can't believe she took the time to free me." Draco sighed heavily, wondering if Harry and Tonks had been terribly close. "My mother certainly didn't seem obligated to return the favor. Although I wasn't exactly the hero of that battle, either. Or really _any_ battle."

"You were in your own sort of battle, Draco." Harry finally spoke up. "You still are. Tonks was probably pleased to know she died saving someone else."

"I wonder…" Draco leaned back, considering, "If my father placed me with Greyback, and my mother just snatched me back like that…she often disagreed with him, but I've never seen her openly defy him. He must have been furious. I don't remember a fight, really, but maybe they took care of it while I wasn't around."

"Maybe." Harry didn't sound so sure.

"What do you think, she brought me home and he pretended nothing had happened? My father never allows disobedience, not even from his family." Draco grumbled.

"I think I know who killed your father." Harry answered after a long silence.

"Who?" Draco looked into the green gaze aimed at him, and for a moment, it was as though he could see straight into Harry's mind. "My mother? That's stupid. She's never killed anyone. I don't think she could. _I'm _more capable of murder than she is."

"I know you don't want to think she did it and then tried to frame you, but I'll tell you this," Harry leaned closer to Draco, "I may not know her especially well, but I know she's keeping something from me. Even if she didn't do it, I'm positive she was there when it happened. Why _wouldn't_ she give me that memory if it would clear your name? Tell me that."

"My mother keeps a lot of secrets, but I very seriously doubt she killed him. However she seems, she genuinely loved him. And I think he may even have felt the same way about her. He certainly showed her more allowance than he did me." Draco shrugged.

"Just so you know, we'll have to use Legilimency for that one as well, unless she's suddenly more cooperative." Harry reached for Draco's hand, and after a moment, the prisoner squeezed the grasping hand in return. "Are you willing to go through the procedure again?"

"It's not bad." Draco smiled at Harry, "Granger handles my mind much more carefully than my father ever did."

"She'd be pleased to hear you actually praise her." Harry offered a small smile in return. "She's become a bit protective of you, oddly enough."

"Yeah, you weren't here two days ago," Draco rolled his eyes. "She said she was just going to make sure there were no unexpected after-effects from the extraction, but after asking me the normal cognitive questions, she spent thirty minutes grilling me about what you were doing with me, and if I felt good about it, where I wanted it to go, how I felt about you…and _then_ she starts gushing about her problems with Weasley…like I _ever_ want to hear about him with a woman. Granger needs more friends. Ones that are girls, I mean. I'm sorry, Harry, but if you were fulfilling all her confidant needs, she wouldn't be coming to me."

"It's okay. I know I'm awkward with that sort of thing. I can't believe she told you about it, though. How much did she tell you?" Harry asked, surprised Hermione would be sharing her private life with someone who, until recently, she had considered an enemy.

"She started off with him not wanting to set a date. Probably giving her a chance to find a _suitable_ male. Then she told me about all their squabbles, his family, the baby thing…I thought she was going to ask to paint each other's nails or something. It was—"

"She told you _that_?!" Harry squawked, "She only _just_ told me about the baby a few weeks ago. Why would she tell you that?"

"I guess I inspire confidence in others." Draco straightened his back regally.

"Or you're the closest thing she has to another girl." Harry frowned grumpily.

"I am not!" Draco scowled, "_You're_ the girl. I am the epitome of masculinity." Harry only smiled at that, not wanting to upset Draco over something so trivial, even if he was a bit offended about Hermione trusting him with so much so soon.

"So, what did you tell her?" he switched the line of conversation easily.

"I told her to marry someone less aggravating and richer who was better looking. But not me, because that would probably be the first person she'd think of with all those qualities." Draco answered easily.

"No, I meant about _us_." Harry couldn't help smiling at Draco's advice.

"Oh." Draco looked down at their linked fingers nervously. "Not…not much."

"Are you saying Hermione now knows more about us than _I_ do?" Harry was a bit annoyed with Draco's evasive reply. "Honestly, how fair is it that you'll talk to her about it, and not me?"

"I _told_ you that you were the girl." Draco released his hand with a grin. "Why does it matter? You know how I feel already. Can't that be enough?"

"Draco, I know you're risking a lot here. So am I. Isn't it better that we're both on the same page?" Harry reached out for the other man's hand, but he was closing his posture, both hands in his lap, his shoulders stooped, and his face blank. "Draco, please, you've listened to Hermione, you _know_ what can happen when two people in a relationship won't talk to each other."

"I know, it's just…" Draco sighed, fidgeting nervously. "Maybe this is too much. Maybe…we're getting too serious too fast. Are you sure that this is what _you_ want?"

"What?" Harry felt his stomach drop through the floor, he felt horribly dizzy, and he saw that he'd somehow ended up kneeling on the floor, his hands pressed flat against the cold floor. "I…you said that you…I thought you and I both were…serious, I…"

"I want to be with you, Harry, but what can I possibly offer you in return?" Draco couldn't stop himself from sinking to the floor as well, his hands enfolding Harry's own. "Look at me, really look. I want to be free, I want to have a chance for us to really be together, but what if that can't happen? What if I'm in Azkaban forever?"

"You won't be, you'll see. We've only got two more cases to clear. They'll have to release you." Harry insisted, panic making him babble slightly.

"I know, but what _if?_" Draco pressed on in a determined tone. "What if they don't take the evidence, or only accept part of it, or we can't clear the last two cases? Do you want to commit to _this?_" he waved his hand around him to encompass his surroundings. "Do you want to be with me if I never leave here? What kind of relationship could we have?"

"But that won't be a problem—"

"But what if it is?" Draco's voice was steel. "Have you thought of that?"

"Why do we even have to consider that?" Harry sounded as though he might cry.

"The same reason we have to talk about what's going on between us." Draco was unbending, but he nuzzled the other man's neck, one hand moving to his hair. "I don't want you to be disappointed if things don't go well."

"Well," Harry spoke after a long silence, "if it _does_ come to that…obviously it will be difficult, but nothing between us has ever been simple, and it won't be easy whether you're free or not. We're talking about two prominent wizards in a romantic relationship. No matter how we try to hide it, we'll be found out, and hopefully we'll have the chance to tell our friends before they read about it in the Daily Prophet."

"Harry, do you really want to put yourself through that?" Draco's tone was soft as the hand gently tracing Harry's jaw line. "I don't want you to suffer on my account."

"I'd suffer more trying to forget you than I would spending all our time together here." Harry's voice cracked as he spoke, and a fat tear rolled down his cheek. "Are you…do you still want me if I can't get you out of here?"

"I want you any way I can have you." Draco's voice quivered as he spoke. "Whatever happens, you've tried harder than anyone ever would to save me. That's more than enough for me."

"I had help." Harry demurred.

"Yeah, but you're the one I want." Draco pushed forward, his lips meeting Harry's in a kiss that was salty sweet with the taste of tears. When Harry kissed back, it was full of a desperate need that only seemed to build as they pressed closer together, their bodies collapsing on the icy floor as the heat built up between them. Soft noises became desperate pleas as the kissing continued, and their hands wandered beneath shirts, but when Draco's hand slid down Harry's trousers, the dark-haired man grabbed the other's wrist to stop the situation going forward.

"Not here." His eyes were full of lust, but they were tinged by a harsh pain. "Please, I wanted…I hoped that if we got this far, the first time would be…"

"Not in a prison?" Draco's breathing was harsh, his cheeks flushed as his swollen lips. "Yeah, I know what you mean. But we may not have a choice."

"If it comes to that…"

"I know, I know." Draco sighed heavily. "Are you saying we have to wait until after the trial?"

"I'd rather…I mean…"

"Okay, okay." Draco kissed him to show he wasn't upset. "Get me all excited for nothing."

"I'm glad we talked." Harry blushed slightly.

"I hope our talks always end with my hand down your pants." Draco kissed his cheek and ground his hips forward, letting Harry feel how aroused he was.

"Ah…stop that." Harry flushed scarlet.

"What?" Draco feigned innocence. "Oh, _this?_" Draco ground forward again slowly, an evil smirk on his face as he held Harry's own hips in place with one hand. "Is this bothering you?" and he ground forward again.

"You're trying to make me change my mind about waiting." Harry's voice trembled as Draco nibbled his ear and then licked at a soft spot on his throat.

"Not at all," came the husky reply, "I just want to make sure you think of me all night, and right when you wake up, all you want is to see me again." A pause, as Draco dropped a kiss on his lips. "I want you to feel the way I do about you. That way, we won't have to worry."

"You're already all I think about." Harry kissed Draco's eyelids tenderly after his eyes closed slowly at the words. "You don't have to do anything as far as that goes."

"Doesn't hurt to be sure." Draco kissed him again, and realized that when Harry was with him, he barely noticed the cold, hard floor, and it was hard to remember he wasn't free already. Maybe he really would be, soon. Harry seemed so sure.

To be Continued…


	14. Chapter 14

Shades of Truth

Chapter 14

"But how _long_ will you be gone?" Hermione's agitated voice was the first thing Harry heard when he came home, and he headed for the source, the study, where his guest was looking rather sulky, and Hermione was having a hard time carrying on an argument when she seemed to be the only one concerned about the subject at hand.

"Is something wrong?" Harry interjected, and she turned to him in relief.

"Did you know about this?" she indicated the person seated next to a briefcase full of books they had clearly been packing away.

"Already?" Harry heave a sigh of resignation.

"You _did_ know!" Hermione sounded absolutely scandalized by this. "This is a ­_stupid_ plan! Leave it to the pair of you to come up with something so poorly thought out."

"How is it stupid?" Harry was too tired for this, in all truth, but he knew he was going to have to deal with it anyway.

"Let me think, let's have a presumed-dead criminal wanted for _murder_ pop up randomly in London and then go into hiding somewhere _not_ as safe as here. _Nothing_ could go wrong, I've never heard of a better plot." Hermione through up her hands.

"If Sirius could do it so easily, I'm _sure_—"

"Sirius had to eat rats!" Hermione shrieked.

"They're quite good, in stew." The guest spoke up helpfully.

"That was only so he could be in Hogsmeade. Why would that be the case here?" Harry replied.

"Well…Sirius is dead!" Hermione made another attempt.

"But that was not related to him having an issue staying hidden, and you know it." Harry told her, "Look, we've already discussed this, and this is much more favorable than the original suggestion of just walking into the Ministry to go to Azkaban as a way to help clear Draco's name. I suggested this as a compromise."

"To what?" Hermione was confused.

"To clearing his name completely." Harry explained.

"I don't deserve to go free." The other person spoke sharply. "No matter the circumstances. For his sake, I'll do my best to stay out of Azkaban, but I do not deserve forgiveness."

"I…don't understand." Hermione turned from one to the other, trying to find the answers. "I thought…he was innocent."

"Not fully." Harry shrugged, "There were extenuating circumstances. There wasn't any choice."

"There was."

"Stop being cryptic and tell me what's going on!" Hermione demanded. Harry licked his lips and looked at the guest, who let out a long-suffering sigh and nodded.

"Just give them to her. She knows enough already." He turned to Hermione, "You must keep them secret, though. You must swear to me. The only other people concerned have died, but for their sake…"

"Wh—" Hermione turned to Harry, who was unlocking a hidden compartment under a desk drawer. He fished out two vials and handed them to her.

"What's this?" she asked.

"The rest of the story." Harry folded her fingers over the vials. "Remember, whatever you think is best, respect his wishes. Not everyone wants to be saved."

"I…I don't have a Pensieve." She answered weakly.

"You can borrow mine." Harry turned to leave the room. "I'll get it now."

"No." she stopped him. "I'll wait. After we retrieve Lucius' death."

"But why?" Harry was the one who was confused now.

"Sometimes the truth is dangerous. She is wise to be wary of it."

"I just…I need to think. All these secrets." She sighed heavily.

"Just remember, my presence here is known only to we three, and to Mrs. Malfoy. You should say nothing that would incriminate either of you as my accessory. Not to anyone. Not even Malfoy."

"I understand." She nodded sharply and hesitated. "When are you leaving?"

"Next week." He replied.

"I'll be back, to say goodbye." She bit her lip, as though holding back something further, but this time, she left in a flurry of cloak.

"She sees you as a friend, without knowing the full truth." Harry told the other, who nodded somberly.

"She has grown into something more extraordinary than anyone could have guessed."

----------

"I've changed my mind." Hermione told Harry as they entered the interview room before Draco arrived. "About the Pensieve. I'd like to know all of it before I say goodbye."

"I thought you might." He nodded, "You can take it tonight, if you'd like."

"Are you worried about him?" Hermione asked. "I mean, he's going to be on his own, and though there was…bad blood there, you two get on well enough now. I mean, he lives with you."

"We still disagree, but yes, I hope he's alright. I've come to understand him, and I think he understands me as well." Harry shrugged and Hermione helped him unpack the Pensieve and Draco's file.

"It seems odd, but I have to admit it would be strange for me to visit, and not to see him there. When he comes back, will he stay with you?" Hermione asked.

"I'm not sure what he wants to do." Harry replied.

"Who?" Draco asked. All the blood drained from Hermione's face, and Harry felt his tongue thick in his mouth as he tried to come up with a feasible reply. "What is this?"

"We…were just talking about a friend." Hermione finally answered.

"Who's living with Harry?" Draco's tone was sharp. "Funny, I've never heard about this 'friend' before."

"It's not like that." Hermione insisted, "He's in a tough situation, and he needed a place to stay."

"Who is it?" Draco pressed.

"Bill Weasley." Harry finally found his voice, picking almost at random from his living friends.

"_That_ pretty boy?" Draco huffed. Harry suddenly wished he'd said Mundungus Fletcher was staying with him instead. "How long has he been staying with you?"

"One week."

"Three months." Hermione and Harry spoke at the same moment, and then looked at each other in panic.

"You two are the worst liars ever." Draco pushed aside his chair in irritation. "And you," he indicated Harry, "When did you plan to tell me that you were living with someone already? Maybe you figured I'd never get out. That'd make it pretty simple to see two people at once if one of them was in prison for the rest of their life. I'm sure _he_ doesn't know, either. And you _knew!_" he pointed at Hermione, "You knew what he was doing, but did you stop him, or say _anything_ to me? You two…you make me sick!" he knocked harshly on the door he'd entered through, and it opened readily, two guards ready to escort Draco back to his cell.

"No!" Harry ran forward, "Please, I can explain!"

"I don't want to hear it." Draco gestured for the guards to take him away. They slammed the door, and Harry knew it was locked automatically, but he still struggled with it, beating at the door before Hermione grabbed him and the fight seemed to drain from him entirely, his shoulders slumping as he turned and slid to the floor, his face falling into his hands.

"Harry," Hermione kneeled next to him, brushing a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, this is my fault. If I hadn't been talking about him, Draco would never have asked…"

"No, it's not that." Harry sighed heavily. "He doesn't trust me, and why should he? I'm keeping secrets from everyone I know! I kept things from you, I'm still hiding a load from Ron, and there are things that apply directly to Draco that I'm not _supposed_ to tell him. It's ridiculous!"

"But Harry," Hermione tilted his chin up, a small smile on her face. "I know all that, and I still trust you. When I find out the secrets you've been hiding, they only make me trust you _more_, because it proves how good you are at keeping the knowledge secret and using it appropriately."

"Thanks," he gave her a sad smile, "I don't think Draco subscribes to that way of thinking, however."

"I got that." She smiled softly, "But you can't blame him for worrying about Bill. He is a beautiful man."

"Hermione!" Harry was shocked out of his slump, and before he could sink back into a stupor, she held out a hand to him.

"Let's go," she smiled warmly, "I think we're going to have to get his help on mending this one."

"I think you're right." He sighed wearily. "Why don't you take the Pensieve? I'll owl you if things don't go well."

"Okay." She planted a kiss on his cheek. "You're a good man, Harry. Draco hasn't know a lot of those, but he'll learn how it works."

"Thanks."

To be Continued…


	15. Chapter 15

Shades of Truth

Chapter 15

Hermione locked herself in her study when she got home, even though Ron was off at a game and shouldn't be back for at least an hour or so, just because she was used to caution in her line of work.

Part of her just wanted to trust Harry without watching the memories. But the researcher in her needed to know every detail of the situation that she had the ability to learn. That part was strongly in control as she poured the first memory into the Pensieve and raised it so that it was a projection she could watch from outside.

She saw right away that it was Dumbledore's office, and even saw the deceased headmaster scribbling on some parchment when a knock sounded at his door.

"Come in," he intoned, and then stood in surprise as a beautiful redhead walked in with a man that Hermione immediately recognized as a much younger Snape. He was probably in his early twenties, as was the strikingly familiar woman with him. "This is unexpected. Lily, I thought you and James were in hiding with Harry." Hermione gasped as it because immediately clear who the woman was and why she looked so familiar.

"We are, sir, but I felt you might be more likely to hear Severus out if I were here to vouch for him." She indicated the man at her side. He was staring at her in a way that Hermione almost immediately comprehended. Snape loved this woman. Or, he had.

"Professor, before I say anything further, I want you to know the situation completely." And with that, he pulled back the sleeve on his left arm, revealing what Hermione immediately recognized as the Dark Mark etched on his pale skin. "I have sworn myself to the Dark Lord, but I wish to forsake him in favor of your Order."

"Continue." Dumbledore sounded neutral at the news of this proposal.

"You probably recall interviewing a woman for the Divination post quite recently. She went into a trance and recited a prophecy about the birth of someone who could challenge the Dark Lord. The innkeeper caught someone eavesdropping who reported their findings back to the Dark Lord, advising him of what they had heard, and necessitating the concealment of the two possible children who could have been the subject of that prophecy."

"You were the eavesdropper." Dumbledore sat at his desk again, smoothing his beard.

"You knew?" Snape quirked an eyebrow.

"Why else would you bring it up?" Dumbledore smiled slightly.

"Indeed." Snape ran a hand through his lank hair before continuing. "Sir, I have seen the error of my ways, and I regret the risk I have placed…these families under. I wish to serve you, and to that end, I have a proposal. I shall pretend to be a servant still to the Dark Lord, but in truth, I shall be your spy. I will apply for a post at Hogwarts, and if you feel you can trust me, you will post me as Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. I will tell the Dark Lord that I am now ideally placed to spy for him, but will only feed him false information."

"I have a few questions." Dumbledore spoke finally, "Firstly, Voldemort is a very skilled Legilimens. How do you plan to keep your true intentions secret?"

"I am a very skillful Occlumens. I challenge you to read me, sir." There was a long silence before Dumbledore moved to his next question.

"Secondly, how can I trust you to serve me, when you block your mind so easily?" he steepled his fingers together.

"I intend to swear an Unbreakable Vow to that effect, with Lily as our Bonder." Snape answered readily, and it was clear he had thought this through in advance.

"Excellent," Dumbledore smiled. "You are aware that to break such a vow causes death?"

"Yes."

"And you are still willing to go forward with it?"

"Yes."

"And finally, I have a question for Lily." Dumbledore turned his attention to the woman. "How is the baby?"

"Very well, thank you." She flushed and stepped forward. Hermione watched in shock as Snape swore to obey every direct command Dumbledore gave him. Just after the ceremony ended, so did the memory, and Hermione took time to digest this. Dumbledore had trusted Snape so implicitly because of that vow. However, she had the feeling he may have gone along with the idea without even that to secure his trust. Clearly, Dumbledore must have seen how Snape felt about Lily. So why…

Shaking her head, Hermione decided to look over the second memory. After putting the first one back, she emptied the second one and cast a projection.

This time, Dumbledore and Snape looked like how she recalled them in Hogwarts. In fact, unless she was much mistaken, one of Dumbledore's hands looked dead and shriveled. So it had to be her sixth year. He would die this year. Harry, Ron, and she would leave Hogwarts for good. As would Draco. And Snape. Things were coming to a head.

"Severus, may I speak in metaphors?" Dumbledore asked as they strolled about the grounds.

"I doubt I could stop you." Was the surly reply.

"Sadly accurate." He laughed, eyes twinkling, "When a student first learns a spell, the spellbook serves a helpful purpose, correct?"

"To instruct and illustrate." Snape agreed.

"However, every student must learn to move beyond the book. Firstly, it would be silly to carry so many books into battle. Secondly, you'd be defeated quickly if you relied on the books rather than learning the spells yourself." He continued.

"A valid point." Snape nodded sharply.

"And Harry has reached that point. I will soon hamper him. If I stay, he will weaken. If I leave, his abilities will surpass my own, and those of his adversary." Dumbledore nodded swiftly, "It is time to test your vow."

"What?" Snape froze, mid-stride.

"Severus, do you think it odd that I agreed to a spell that nearly robs one of their agency; and have since made no notable use of it? I have others direct you, or I imply directions which you have faithfully followed without having the force of an Unbreakable Vow behind your complicity." Dumbledore paused, gazing over the grounds as he waited for Snape to regain the use of his feet.

"I have not thought of it so much, though your discretion with such power has, of course, impressed in me the notable difference between yourself and my former master." Snape replied, moving to stride alongside the headmaster again.

"However, I accepted the Vow." Dumbledore smiled sadly, "How much better does that make me, I wonder?"

"Without intention of using it, it shows your strength of character." Snape replied swiftly. "That day, I wanted to be sure you would trust me, but you have insured that I will always trust you."

"But I do intend to use it." Dumbledore answered. "I have a command for you, Severus, but I hope you can think of it more as a favor amongst friends."

"What do you wish me to do?" Snape was clearly a bit nervous as he prompted the ancient man.

"I have reached an end." Dumbledore explained. "My strength is not what it was, and I lack a certain…functionality," here, he raised his wasted hand to draw attention to it. "I've had a full life, and I don't worry about being forgotten. I know that I have made my contribution to the world, and I feel fulfilled in my many associations, and I have no desire to live forever. I know that I shall soon die, though not of natural causes, and I wish for you to be the one to do it, when the time comes."

"Why would you want that?" Snape's voice was oddly weakened.

"Because, I would rather you kill me than have you die needlessly." Dumbledore shrugged. "I'll die either way. I know what you've sworn to do for Mr. Malfoy."

"How could you know that?" Snape scowled, obviously agitated.

"It was an easy enough conclusion. I'm aware of his orders, and his half-hearted attempts to carry them out. I can assume what is at stake, and it was only a short step from there to infer what his mother would do to assist him in his endeavor." Dumbledore turned to Snape and patted his shoulder warmly, "You have an endearing weakness for chivalry, Severus."

"I never…I was hoping you could shelter Draco in the way you sheltered me. For this, and to be sure you continue to lead the Order, I was ready to die. Happy to die." Snape explained. "Do not order me to do this, I beg you."

"You've already sworn it with another. I just want you to know that I hope you succeed. I know Mr. Malfoy does not have it in him to kill, but I have an undeniable feeling that he will be an asset to us, and to Harry. I do not bring you here to order you to kill me. I trust you to do that when the time comes. I order you to defend Draco, whatever the cost, for as long as that remains possible. I feel sure that he will prove himself greater than you or I could guess. Until he finds his courage, you must protect him."

"I would have done that anyway." Snape told him. "He is dear to me as a son."

"I know." Dumbledore smiled. "But there may come a day when your courage fails, and my command keeps you on the path we share now. For his sake, and for Harry's, I secure you to that road."

"I think you cannot give up meddling, and that is the full reason." Snape grumbled.

"You're the only one who can protect him now. His father is too cold, his mother too gentle." Dumbledore explained. "So you must live for his sake."

"This is idiocy!" Snape snapped, "You'd be a better guardian than I would. Besides that, if I _do_ kill you, I'll be as useful as Sirius was to young Potter. A wanted man on the run."

"I want you to advise Harry when I am gone and he needs it. This is better." Dumbledore insisted.

"There are many better suited to that! You know how we grate on each other. He won't listen to a word I say." Snape argued.

"Perhaps if you could let go of your schoolboy grudges, Severus, and try to see Harry, not as his father's son, but as a boy not so different from yourself," Dumbledore insisted, "he could teach you as much as you could teach him."

"I can never do that. He is too much like James; it irritates me just to see him." Snape refused the suggestion.

"Then attempt to remember Lily, and for her sake, look out for her son the way you wished to look out for her." Dumbledore's voice rose slightly. "Can you hate the son of the woman you loved?"

"He is a reminder that she loved the man I hated!" Snape whirled about angrily. "What's to love about a snarky brat whose very existence reminds me of my own regrets, my failures?"

"He is all of Lily that is left." Dumbledore replied, his tone calm once more. "I know she would feel at ease knowing you are assisting him through the tough times that lie ahead for him."

"I have no way of helping him against the Dark Lord." Snape kicked at a stone sullenly.

"I meant for you to help him _after_ the war." Dumbledore replied. "So, Severus, you must survive."

"I still find this ridiculous." He answered after a long silence.

"And I can only ask you to give me what I have given you." Dumbledore started turning toward the castle. "Trust."

----------

Hermione was brewing a cup of tea and thinking over the memories she had witnessed when Harry came to her door, distraught and worried. She invited him in and sat him down, quickly brewing another cup of tea before he said anything.

"He's gone." Harry finally spoke the words as though he feared the meaning they carried.

"What?" Hermione's brow furrowed.

"Snape." He explained, "He left while I was out."

"Well," she heaved a deep sigh, "I wish I could say I'm surprised, but I can't imagine he's a fan of goodbyes. I _am_ disappointed, though. I only just had a chance to watch the memories."

"He just _left_." Harry seemed to be stuck on that detail.

"Are you worried…you know, that he'll be caught?" Hermione asked.

"Well…a bit, but he knows how to handle himself, how to be stealthy. I'm sure he'll be fine." He took a sip of the tea. "I guess…I knew it was coming, but now…I needed his help with Draco. And he's gone."

"We can take care of that without him, Harry. I know we can." Hermione assured him. There was a long silence as they sipped at their tea before Hermione reached over, setting her hand lightly on Harry's arm. "It's okay if you miss him."

He looked as though he was struggling to say something, and she leaned forward, squeezing his arm encouragingly.

"I'm home!" Ron's bright exclamation ended their discussion. They looked at each other in continued silence, their conversation on hold for now. "Hey, I stopped by the store, and they had these—"

"Welcome home," she spoke when he stopped at the threshold of the dining room.

"Harry!" he exclaimed happily, "I didn't know you were coming over! I would have left work early."

"No, I just felt like visiting. Is that alright?" He asked, not rising from his seat.

"Of course it is!" Ron set his groceries on the counter and sat down next to him. "I haven't seen you for a while. Are you still doing that investigation?"

"Er, yeah," Harry coughed awkwardly. He felt horrible pretending all the time around Ron, but he didn't feel like there was anything he could say that would make the situation better or easier.

"Let me know when you have some time off, we could go to a game together or something." Ron suggested, getting up again to begin dinner preparations. "Are you going to stay for dinner?" he asked as he moved into the kitchen, his voice carrying back to Harry and Hermione from there. She turned to him, a pleading look on her face.

"Sure, if it's not any trouble." He answered loud enough for Ron to hear and gave Hermione a quizzical look at the same time.

"Not at all! I'm making up some fish and chips. They had halibut on sale, and I thought it'd be good." He called, poking his head back into the dining room for a moment.

"Sounds great." Hermione gave him a tight smile and he returned to the kitchen swiftly. She turned to Harry and shook her head swiftly. "I'm sorry," she whispered, "It's been rough lately…between us."

"I saw…you guys seem kinda distant." Harry felt distinctly out of his depth, but he _could_ see a certain distance in their interactions, or lack thereof. "The wedding thing still?"

"I'm afraid to say anything, like if I bring it up, we'll have a fight, but there's all this tension…" she shook her head.

"Did you…um, did you want me to talk to him?" Harry offered hesitantly.

"What would you _say?_" Hermione asked, her tone low and desperate.

"I don't really know." He admitted, "What do you _think_ I should say?"

"If I knew that, we wouldn't be having this problem. If Ginny were here, she'd…sorry, Harry." She apologized, realizing too late the sensitivity of that subject.

"I'm fine." Harry was surprised to realize he was telling the truth. "I heard you spoke to Draco. What did he suggest?"

"To marry someone else." Hermione rolled her eyes. "He also suggested that I could leave him just to let him know I meant business. I'm sorry, Harry, but if he considers those to be valid strategies, you are in for it."

"Well, that's part of the package when you decide to date a Slytherin." Harry shrugged with a soft smile, then gave a slight frown. "Or, I mean, see them…romantically. Not that we are _now_, after today. But you know—"

"Yes, Harry, yes." She giggled at him, "You're babbling."

"I know." He smiled apologetically, "I'm just worried. About Snape, and Draco, and us, and you, and Ron, and that last memory, the trial—"

"Still babbling." She cut him off again.

"Yeah, sorry," he took a deep drink of tea and slumped in his chair. "I think we're failing."

"At what?" she quirked a brow.

"Life." They both laughed then, and lapsed into silence, listening to Ron in the kitchen, a cacophony of clangs and sizzles.

"I have an idea." Hermione offered finally. "What if I try sorting out Draco, and you try sorting out Ron, and we can see if that helps at al."

"I don't know if that'll work." Harry pointed out, "You got me into trouble to start off with."

"Well, it was just an idea." Hermione sulked, which Harry noticed she should really practice more, since she wasn't nearly as good at it as Draco. Or as cute. Perhaps he had a tiny bias on that last count, though.

"Fine, if you really think it will help." Harry gave in, mostly so he wouldn't have to be subjected to her sub-par pouting, which only made him think of Draco, which only depressed him. "I still have no idea what to say to Ron, though."

"You'll think of something." Hermione sounded rather confident, but Harry had his doubts about this scheme. However, he also couldn't think of exactly how he could mend things with Draco. At least with Hermione's help, he'd have less chance of having his heart broken.

"Besides," Hermione went on after a while, "If I can't fix things right away, I can at least get him to work on retrieving that last death."

To be Continued…


	16. Chapter 16

Shades of Truth

Chapter 16

Hermione was feeling good. Sure, here last few attempts to visit Draco had been entirely unsuccessful, as he was apparently "ill," or so the guards were telling her. She knew without seeing him or asking, that Harry was receiving the same brush-off, but today, things would be different.

Today she had a plan.

Phase one of her plan had taken place that morning. She had made the stubbornly resistant guard deliver a copy of yesterday's Daily Prophet to Draco. She had judged that six hours was enough time to wait before returning to see if he was suddenly more open to an interview, considering the assumption that he likely had a few questions.

Phase two would be to answer those questions fully, to a degree that Snape might see as a betrayal, but since he hadn't made _her_ swear never to tell anyone of his erstwhile living arrangements, that was really his own fault.

It was a simple plan, and it was beautifully obvious, but she knew that Snape simply _trusted_ her not to share the truth with anyone, not even Draco. That was fine, and she knew he would at _least_ be annoyed with her, but it seemed to her that if Narcissa Malfoy was allowed to know any of it, Draco was entitled to that knowledge. Especially since it was so much more immediately pertinent to him.

Besides, she wasn't intending to tell him about the memories. Draco's trust in Snape wouldn't require that much justification.

"Back again," it was the same guard she'd spoken with that morning. "He's sick."

"I think you should check." She smiled sweetly, knowing he would have to do as she said. Not many people bothered arguing with Unspeakables. "He may have suddenly recovered."

The guard grumbled as he left to follow her instructions, and she confidently proceeded to the interview room. Five minutes later, Draco entered, the paper clenched in his hand. The door had barely closed behind him before he began speaking.

"What do you know?" his voice was harsh; presumably he wasn't enjoying this any more than Harry. "Is it really him?"

"Yes," she nodded sharply. "Have a seat."

"I don't _want_ to sit!" he snapped. "And I am _not_ here about Harry, in case you get confused! You knew I'd want to know whatever you know about Snape, so you sent me this. Brilliant plan, Granger. Except I _only_ care to speak about him, so let's stay on topic."

"Fine, but if you're going to be so difficult, perhaps I'll keep my secrets to myself." She answered calmly. "If you won't speak about Harry, I've got nothing further to say."

"Do you even know anything beyond what the paper has to say?" Draco grumbled irritably after an interminable silence.

"Of course." She smiled brightly, as though he was falling right into her trap, which wasn't far from the truth. "I know you can't get something for nothing."

"So what's the deal, then?" he crossed his arms and sat down as grumpily as possible. "If I talk to you, I have to talk to Harry?"

"No, I just ask that you listen on me, even if Harry is involved, and that you believe what I tell you." She told him calmly. "And please, don't mope." His silver eyes went wide, and he rapped the table once, sharply.

"Malfoys do _not_ mope." He left the paper on the table and crossed his arms once more silently prompting her to get on with it.

"Now, then," she resumed speaking after a moment of struggling not to laugh or smile at Draco's huffy reaction. "The truth is that I did know about this, and so did Harry. Why do you think he questioned your guilt? Who do you think was helping him find the memories he needed? I'm sure he's even donated one or two. The truth is that he's been living with Harry. No one's told me for how long, but I gather that he's been there for quite some time. Probably since right around the end of the war. Anyway, no one was supposed to know, and I ended up finding out somewhat on accident. He would rather stay hidden, but for _your_ sake, he's appeared in public to drum up interest before Harry presents your appeal, and obviously to clear you of suspicion on _his_ count, at least."

"So, you see, _that's_ what we were talking about that day, as we knew he'd be leaving, and we were a bit worried about how it would go. But Harry told me he received an owl yesterday saying all's well, so he seems to be fine." She drew a deep breath. "And I'm sure you're wondering why we didn't just tell you that instead of some badly cobbled lie about Bill staying with him. The truth is that Snape's made Harry swear not to tell _anyone_ the truth. Not me or Ron _or_ you, but I never _technically_ swore, so I've decided even though Snape'll be annoyed with me, you need to know, because it's causing issues which are interfering with finishing this investigation, and frankly, making Harry miserable and irritating me to no end. So I though it'd be worth it."

"Okay." Draco's voice was remarkably calm when he did speak again, though he did sit in silence for almost five minutes before finally responding to her drawn out explanation. "Is that all you wanted to tell me?"

"Aren't you surprised?" Hermione felt a bit off-put by his controlled response.

"Of course, but I've learned today that a man I regarded as a friend and mentor, whom I have memories of killing, is alive and running about London. Adding onto that the fact that he's been hiding in the Hero of the Wizarding World's home this whole time is hardly going to seem more ridiculous." Draco replied calmly.

"So…now that you know what's been going on, are you through being angry at Harry?" she attempted.

"No." he answered easily. "I don't care what Snape _made_ him do, I'm mad at both of them, as well as you, for keeping this from me. Do you know how different the false memories are from the true? Not much. I may hear you tell me that I didn't kill someone, and you can show me proof, make my rational mind believe it as well, but you can't erase the memories they planted. And I'm especially aggravated with Snape because I know he helped do it, then wouldn't even do me the favor of sending me a message while I sat in prison to let me know not to take those memories too seriously, and neither of you bothered to think that I _might_ be laboring under the illusion that he was dead, so I had to find out like _this_. So yeah, I'm still a bit annoyed."

"I'm sorry, Draco, but you know Harry. If he makes a promise, he keeps it, no matter what. I know I don't have that excuse, but I knew Snape wanted us to keep it quiet, so I did. I should have told you when you walked in on us, though, rather than lie." Hermione apologized.

"That's all right, I guess. You're both horrid liars. At least I know that, in case I'm worried about it in the future." Draco heaved a sigh.

"So…will you let Harry see you next time he comes?" Hermione wanted to know.

"Depends. He'll probably be here in about an hour, and I'm sure I'll still be angry at his stupid sense of noble honor then, so we'll see. Tomorrow…maybe. Next week, probably." Draco examined his nails as though nothing worried him less than when he would next see Harry Potter. Hermione knew better.

"You aren't a bad liar, Malfoy, but the more time I spend with you, the easier I can read you." She stood up, pleased with a successful visit.

"Don't presume to know how I feel." He answered, also standing rather indignantly. "I'll do what I like."

"When did you want to start on the last retrieval?" Hermione asked, "I was thinking maybe we could get to work on it after things were running smoothly with Harry. It's important that your mind be clear and free of as much stress as possible when we do it, to avoid complications."

"Yeah, because springing things like this on me doesn't cause any stress." Draco pointed in aggravation at the paper.

"Which is one reason we didn't tell you." She smiled, and before he could respond, she strode over and gave him a strong hug. "I want you to know," she told him after stepping back while he gawked at her in shock and alarm, "I've never seen Harry so devoted to anything before. And I'm surprised to say it, but I really want everything to work out for you both."

"Thanks." He managed, a bit off kilter as she gave him a parting smile and left the room.

----------

"I'm glad you could come out." Ron told Harry as they sipped at a pair of ales in the Three Broomsticks. Despite his dejection over Draco's repeated refusals to see him, Harry had taken Ron's invitation to a Quidditch match as a possible opportunity to make an attempt at keeping his word to Hermione. He hadn't found much time for talk of marriage during the game, however, and had asked Ron out for drinks afterwards. He had to make _some_ effort, after all. This was Ron, his best friend. They could talk about anything. Well, almost anything.

"Yeah, I'm glad too. I feel like I never do fun stuff anymore." He took a sip of ale. It was much better than the stuff he'd had with Nott. "What about Hermione and you? Do you guys go out much?"

"Um, well, she's pretty busy." Ron looked a bit uncomfortable. Clearly he hadn't had enough ale to drink yet. "And she's not that big on Quidditch, really."

Harry weighed his options before deciding that he could just plow on. First, he let Ron finish his pint, just to be on the safe side. "Is everything okay between you?"

"Who? Oh, you mean with Hermione." Ron looked mournfully on as Madam Rosmerta swept away his empty glass with practiced efficiency.

"Only, you guys have been engaged so long. I wondered when you were going to pick a date." He finished off swiftly, trying his best to sound casual.

"Well…she's pretty busy, so it's hard to schedule things." Ron explained, not meeting Harry's eye. "And usually I'm busy when she's free, so it's pretty crazy."

"Ron," Harry spoke again after Ron received his second pint. "You two couldn't find one day off together in two years?"

There was a long silence, and Harry wasn't sure whether Ron was going to storm out, punch him, or just ignore what he'd said. "There…are things you don't know."

"Do you love her still?" was his response.

"Of course I do. More than anything." Ron answered.

"Do you _want_ to marry her?"

"That's a stupid question." Ron's laugh was a bit hysterical.

"Do you?" Harry was deadly calm.

"Things between us…right now, it's perfect. If we get married, if we have kids…I _want_ those things, I do." Ron stared at his half-empty ale somberly. "But I don't want…look what happened to _my_ family! If things got bad…I couldn't bear to be so happy and have it all fall apart. I don't want to lose her."

"If you keep making her wait, you'll lose her anyway." Harry answered.

"I don't…" he trailed off.

"Look, I understand what's worrying you. Don't you think I can understand what it is to lose your family?" Harry looked at Ron dead on. "Bad things can happen whether you're happy or not, they aren't going to be worse because you _were_ happy. Wouldn't you rather have a family than be alone? Because the way you're going on, all the bad things that happen to you will be your own doing. I know it seems like she'll never leave you, but look at how things are now. They'll only get worse if you keep this up."

Silence again from Ron. The noise around them was filling their ears as they stared at each other wordlessly. Finally, Ron slammed back the rest of his drink, slammed the glass down again, and glared at Harry.

"You can be a real nosy git sometimes, you know?" And he tossed down a pair of sickles before leaving in a way that told Harry not to follow. He wondered if he had helped or not. Maybe he'd gone too far. Maybe he was so worried about Draco…

Maybe he needed another drink.

To be Continued…


	17. Chapter 17

Shades of Truth

Chapter 17

The next morning, Draco wouldn't see him.

He spent his day writing letters. He wrote one to Draco, apologizing for making up stories which meandered off into a maze of half-finished explanations as he tried to justify the truth without telling Draco about Snape. He gave up and crumpled it up.

Then he wrote a series of letters to Snape to ask advice, or how he was, or if he needed anything. Those he crumpled up after they reached the second sentence.

Next, he tried a letter to Ron, to explain he didn't want to make him angry, but it really wasn't fair, what he was doing to Hermione. That one he tore in half then crumpled up.

After that, he tried writing to Draco again, this time saying how he missed him and wanted to see him. He started crying, which smudged the ink, and he couldn't bear anyone seeing it, so he crumpled it up as well.

Finally, he wrote Hermione to say that he needed to talk to someone because he was lonely and miserable. He'd nearly sent it when he realized he sounded fifteen, felt foolish, and let it join the detritus on the study floor.

He cleaned up and went back to Azkaban, ready to be turned away. He wasn't.

He nearly flew to the interview room, full of anticipation and worry. After what seemed hours, Draco entered, from the opposite door.

"Hello." The blonde was the first to speak. Harry felt his heart was racing, and his chest ached with it. He was short of breath, and he could think of nothing to say.

"I'm sorry." That seemed a good start.

"Hermione told me about Snape." Was the delayed response.

"Sh—she wasn't supposed to." Harry was clearly surprised, but he didn't bother trying to lie again.

"I know."

"I had to swear, or I would have told you." He continued. "I asked him, but he wouldn't let me."

"I know."

"I got a letter from him, so he's alright. If you were wondering." Harry wanted to close the small distance between them, to embrace Draco, to kiss him, to feel his heat, but he felt sure he could not do anything until Draco gave him some sign that all was well.

"I know." He replied again. "Hermione told me."

"Oh." Harry felt a bit lame.

"She came here yesterday." Draco spoke again, "She thinks I should forgive you. Because you were just keeping your word."

"What do you think?" Harry asked, his nervous anticipation building.

"I think it's a rotten excuse to lie to me. If you think about it, you're basically saying you care about him more than me. Sacrificing honesty to me for a promise to him. Plus, you made me think you were sleeping with someone else, which was probably the worst part. Bill Weasley. Honestly, if you have to lie about who's living with you, you could at least have the courtesy to pretend you're living with someone unappealing, like McGonagall or Cornelius Fudge."

"I'm sorry, I'm not a very good liar, and I panicked." Harry tried not to smile at Draco's petulant tone as he gave this advice.

"Yes, well, it's a good thing you weren't a spy in the war. You would've been found out right away." Draco crossed his arms over his chest. "And I expected more from Granger. She's an Unspeakable, but she didn't even hear me come in, just kept talking about your roommate. And you're an Auror! Did they just automatically _give_ you that job because you defeated the Dark Lord? Because I find it hard to believe you passed all those stealth tests on your own merit."

"Probably they gave me the benefit of the doubt." Harry shrugged, not disputing Draco's suspicions.

"So I'll probably be angry with you for quite a while. So you know." Draco explained haughtily. "But I'm not supposed to make up with you so we can do the last retrieval and go to trial already. I don't want you to think what you did was okay. I don't appreciate being kept in the dark on something that directly relates to me. So in the future, as much as your goody-goody Gryffindor friends admire your noble sense of obligation to others, I admire your nobility only when it favors me. Keep that in mind, and be prepared for the consequences if you ever do something like this again."

"I will be." Harry nodded, still repressing a smile that kept twitching at the corners of his mouth.

"Well, then. Was there anything you had to say in your defense?" Draco shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He had clearly been expecting an argument.

"No, not really." Harry shrugged.

"Okay then." Draco let his arms unfold, his hands falling to his sides. "Well, you can go." He turned, but quick as lightning, Harry snatched his wrist and pulled him back around, using the momentum to bring him close and crush their lips together in a hard, desperate kiss.

There was only a moment before Draco was returning his attention just as enthusiastically, his fingers finding flesh under robes and pressing into it forcefully as Harry's mouth wandered down from his own to triumphantly claim his throat, then the junction of his shoulder and neck, tugging at the collar of the prison robes so forcefully that he felt it tear under his hand, but did not bother to relent. His questing mouth moved over Draco's collarbone to the hollow of his throat, fascinated with the changing texture and curve of skin pulled taut over his form. He wanted more, to see how light would fall over the entirety of him, all his curves and angles and planes, the way they met and the contrast between each area, and the color of his skin, how some areas would be paler than others, the way all of it felt, which places were softest and roughest, and wonder at all of him.

But he knew that he would be coming to a precipice he was not ready to fall into if he gave in to these desires. Not here. Not now. He could imagine how Draco's skin would look against his stark-white bed sheets, and only by concentrating on that image, and how much he would prefer that to seeing Draco against the cold stone floor of Azkaban's interview room, could he find it in him to control himself. Draco clearly still remembered their decision from before, because he kept all his groping from edging any lower than Harry's hips.

"I missed you so much." Harry whimpered, his voice quivering and breathless. "I kept waking up at night, thinking of you, wondering if I'd ever get to be with you, and then I wouldn't be able to sleep, and it was too late to come and try to see you."

"Mmm," Draco signaled his understanding as he meticulously nibbled every bit of Harry's jaw line, from his left ear down and over, back up to his right ear, where he began edging down his neck.

"I thought I'd go crazy waiting for you to just…speak to me, even." Harry continued, his fingers digging greedily into the soft skin that was covering Draco's jutting hips. "I couldn't bear it, if I had to go so long without ever seeing you again."

"It was only five days." Draco broke off his investigation of Harry's disappointingly snug collar to scoff at his complaint.

"You…didn't miss me?" his response was plaintive.

"I didn't say that." Draco grinned triumphantly as he found the top fastening for Harry's robes and popped it open, revealing a tantalizing triangle of flesh he eagerly attacked.

"I…after you got out; were you…Did you plan to live with your mother?" Harry managed to ask, causing Draco to look up in confusion, his brow furrowed.

"Okay, can we make it a rule not to mention my parents while I'm trying to have a good snog?" Draco asked.

"I'm sorry…I was just trying…" Harry could feel the blood rushing to his face. It was as though his cheeks were on fire. Draco heaved a sigh.

"Well…I don't know. I guess so. It's Malfoy Manor, and I _am_ a Malfoy. It may be odd, though. I may just get my own flat. I guess I hadn't thought that far." Draco answered finally. "Why?"

"Nothing, no reason." Harry was still too terribly embarrassed, and he could hardly look Draco in the eye.

"Were you…going to ask me to live with you?" Harry didn't answer, but his brilliant complexion was all the answer Draco needed. "Oh Merlin, you're so enamored you want me all to yourself?" he asked teasingly. "Well, I'm sorry, but I think it'd be awkward when my many lovers kept coming to visit. I have to be free, you see."

"It was a stupid idea," Harry's voice cracked slightly, "I'm sorry."

"Harry, I was only teasing!" Draco tried to turn Harry's face so their eyes would meet, but he kept turning away. "Harry, are you _crying?_"

"No," Harry replied feebly as he tried desperately to marshal his emotions.

"Harry, please, there's no one else, I was only joking. It wasn't even that funny. I shouldn't have said anything." Draco explained in a rush.

"I know." His voice was scarcely above a whisper.

"Then what's wrong?" Draco demanded. "Why won't you look at me?"

"Nothing, I'm just…tired. I should go." Harry forced a smile, but still wouldn't meet Draco's eyes.

"No you don't!" Draco grabbed both of Harry's arms. "Just tell me. Please, we were happy a second ago. If you want me to live with you so much, we could try it. Don't be mad at me, it isn't fair. We only just made up."

"You don't have to live with me." Harry tried to escape, but with no success.

"I could stay with you while I look for a flat. Don't you live in London, anyway? It'd be convenient, really, and if I just decide to stay, or…I mean, if we decide, we could do that, or I could live on my own a while, see what we want to do. Just take things as they come." Draco suggested. "Plus, it'd be hard to have time alone if I lived with my mother. It would be fun."

"No, really, it wasn't that." Harry assured him, "We don't have to move in together when you get out. You're welcome, of course, and I think it'd be great…I just…"

"Just tell me," Draco's tone was gentle as he stroked the side of Harry's face. "No more secrets. They cause too many problems."

"Well, I guess…I just realized," Harry took a deep breath, steeling his nerves. "I realized, I _want_ you to be around all the time, and I want you to be happy, and it's all I think about, making sure this all works out, and you get freed, but almost more than that…"

"Harry?" Draco prompted after the other fell into a long silence.

"I think…well, no, that isn't right. I'm messing this up." Harry raked a hand through his hair, desperate to make himself understood. Trembling with nerves, he looked up, meeting the concerned silver gaze. His tongue was frozen, he couldn't say what he needed to say, so he grabbed Draco's shoulders, gently leaned forward, and kissed him softly on the lips. The kiss was sweet, and lingering, and as he broke away, Draco leaned in, his eyelids fluttering over flushed cheeks, his lips parted slightly. Harry tilted his head, bringing his lips to Draco's ear, and he finally found his voice again. "I love you."

Draco stayed as he was, leaning toward Harry with his whole body, and he let out his breath in one long, shuddering sigh. There was silence between them for a long time, and he finally turned his face slowly into Harry's neck.

"Say it again," he breathed huskily, "Please."

"I love you." It was easier the second time, somehow, but he suddenly realized that his fingers had tightened their grip on Draco's shoulders so that he might now feel a sharp ache, and would probably have bruises to show for it later. Draco seemed oblivious to any of this; he sighed blissfully and wrapped his arms around Harry's waist snugly.

"When you say it," he whispered into Harry's jaw, tilting his face to be heard, "I believe you."

"Well, I do." Harry wasn't sure what the proper response was when someone said something like that, and he couldn't help feeling a bit awkward.

"I love you, too." Draco's voice washed over him like warm satin, and his hesitation evaporated instantly. They kissed and clutched frantically for a while before Harry broke away for a moment.

"Now would be a good time to be out of here." He told the other man. "Do you think, being who I am, the guards would stop me if I took you home with me?" he was obviously kidding, but he said it so seriously, Draco couldn't help laughing.

"Maybe you could spend the night here. Tell them that you're going to need to keep me under extremely tight surveillance, and you just can't trust anyone else to put in the dedication required to monitor such a hardened criminal." Draco suggested, and Harry couldn't stop himself laughing as well.

"Well, there's nowhere else I need to be." Harry shrugged. "I'd rather hide out here than be home when Hermione finds out my attempt to help her with Ron was likely a complete backfire."

"Why'd she get _you_ to help? We've already established your lack of stealth." Draco teased. "Don't get me started on your relationship savvy."

"I tried to warn her." Harry replied, shaking his head.

To be Continued…


	18. Chapter 18

Shades of Truth

Chapter 18

"Okay, concentrate on your memory of his death." Hermione instructed. "I have to get close enough to find the hidden memory underneath."

"Alright." Draco and Harry were on the same side of the table this time, their fingers interwoven on Draco's right leg. Harry was holding his wand in his other hand, ready for Hermione to tell him to extract the memory as son as she reached it. Hermione had been the one to suggest they sit close to each other, insisting that Harry's soothing presence would help Draco relax his mind and avoid any complications. Draco had joked that she was just trying to see them in action, to which she had primly responded that she could see _plenty_ of that while she was in his head, if she so wished it.

Other than the seating arrangements, everything seemed to be going just as it had the last time. Draco began recounting the memory in a voice totally devoid of emotion, Harry caressing his palm slowly with his thumb. Hermione began the Legilimency, and Harry waited, wand at the ready, for his signal. After a while, he started to wonder what was wrong. Draco had fallen silent and was breathing shallowly, as though he was asleep, but his eyes were open almost unnaturally wide and unblinking. The blood had drained from his face, or so it appeared, but Draco was so pale to begin with that there wasn't much difference from his normal appearance.

As if Harry was not already starting to panic, Hermione made a sound that he could have sworn was a cleverly muffled string of curses and furrowed her brow.

"I'm…I have to stop." And she made a motion with her wand before slumping in her chair suddenly, as though the ordeal had completely worn her out. There was a sheen of moisture on her forehead, and she seemed rather drained, but Harry only saw this for a moment before his attention was taken by Draco, who had maintained his posture for a moment before falling sideways out of the chair, only barely being caught by Harry, who lunged in his direction and pulled him back up, shooting a horrified look at Hermione, who was suddenly looking alert once more.

"What's wrong with him?" Harry asked as he held up the boneless form.

"I must have overdone it." She was kneeling in front of them now, her hand reaching to check Draco's pulse, a gesture that spoke of her muggle heritage. "I just couldn't get through…the other one was nothing like this." There were tears welling up in her eyes, but Harry was more concerned with Draco.

"Is he going to wake up?" Harry's voice sounded like an odd croaking.

"Well, he's not convulsing or dead. I'd say that's good." She bit her lip. "I think I just tired him out. He'd probably wake up on his own in an hour or so. Or it could be sooner, hopefully."

"He's…I don't think he's breathing." Harry was clearly in a full panic, and Hermione attempted to check, but Harry was practically smothering the other man in his arms.

"Harry, honestly, I can't check him over if you're doing that." She clicked her tongue at him and attempted to pry him away from the unconscious form, but this proved to be no easy task. "Harry, which of us knows the most about medical magic? Will you just…let go!"

"Look what you _already_ did!" he nearly shrieked at her, "He's…he's not moving."

"Harry, if you don't calm down, I'll hex you and have my way in any case. I can't fix him if you won't let me." She persisted, and after a threatening wave of her wand, he finally relented. Hermione employed his assistance and they laid Draco out on his back on the table. She lowered her ear to his mouth before looking up again and poising her wand over his chest. "Ennervate." she spoke the incantation firmly, flicking her wand before smoothly putting it away. Draco's body gave a great shudder before going still again. A moment later, his eyelids fluttered and he gave a weak groan, scowling disconsolately as he lazily opened his eyes.

"Draco," Harry breathed, surging forward and clutching at the immobile form, "Are you okay? You scared us."

"I'm fine, if you don't count my head." He grumbled in reply. "Feels like a cauldron full of acid exploded inside."

"Sorry, I had a hard time." Hermione apologized. "It was much easier to find the memory underneath last time, and then I just kept digging until, well, sorry. I didn't even get it, after all of that."

"Well…shall we try again?" Draco pushed himself up into a sitting position with one arm, wincing as he did so.

"No!" Harry protested immediately. "No way."

"Harry's right, we shouldn't try it again, definitely not today." Hermione looked rather shaken, and Draco wondered whether she didn't want to make another attempt because of his own mental health, or because she hated facing the prospect of failure. "I think we should wait a couple weeks."

"I'm fine, we don't have to wait _that_ long." Draco scowled deeply. "I'm sick of all this waiting. How long has it been since this all started? It seems like every step forward means a few more weeks. I'm getting tired of it, and I just want it to be over with."

"I understand that," Hermione answered calmly, "But if you want this to work, we can't just rush through it. Not only would the evidence be compromised, you health would be at risk. Well, more at risk, I mean."

"It's _still_ annoying." Draco grumbled.

"All right." Hermione pursed her lips. "If you feel up to it and you seem alright to go through with it again, we can try it in one week. How does that sound?"

"No!" Harry protested again. "We should wait two weeks to be safe."

"One week is really enough time." Hermione advised him.

"Harry, it'll be fine." Draco rolled his eyes.

"Fine." Harry gave in since it was clear he was being overruled in any case. "But I'm going to see if your mother remembers anything, in the mean time."

"And I'll write to Snape." Hermione added, "See if he has any advice."

"Why?" Harry frowned.

"He's much better at Legilimency than I am. He may be able to see what the problem is if I can describe how it felt well enough." Hermione replied.

"That's a good idea." Draco nodded. "My father was rather good at it, clearly, but he's not really available for questions."

"So was Dumbledore." Harry added morosely, "And Voldemort."

"Did…did your mother know anything about it?" Hermione asked. Draco gave her an appraising look before answering.

"No, she puts much more energy into style and appearance than she does into magic." Draco told them. "She was always a rather mediocre witch, according to what I've seen and heard. The only spells she was ever good at were the ones my father insisted on her practicing. Domestic things."

"Well, that's too bad." Hermione smiled briskly, "It'd be easier than trying to write to a fugitive if I could just ask her about it instead."

"I doubt she'd even help you, in any case." Draco snorted. "She's notoriously not helpful, especially when it comes to…well, you know."

"Mudbloods?" Hermione smiled wryly, and Draco responded in kind.

"Exactly so." He shrugged. "I'm shocked she's even helped out Harry at all."

"Only because she knows that she's really helping _you_." Harry answered. "She's very begrudging about it, even then."

"Yeah…she's…well, she's a good mother. She tries to be." Draco dropped his eyes. "She always does the best she can for me."

"Yes, well…we should go. Will you be okay?" Hermione asked Draco, who pulled himself to his feet with only a small amount of trouble.

"Yes, it isn't too bad." He smiled weakly at them both. "I'll just have a bit of a lie-down."

"Do that," Hermione hugged him and he stiffened at the unexpected contact. "I'll be back in a few days to see how you're feeling." She smiled brightly, and before he could avoid it, pecked him warmly on the cheek. "I'll be outside." She told Harry before leaving the two men on their own.

"How's your head?" Harry asked, reaching over and pressing his fingertips to Draco's temple.

"Still not great, I'll admit." Draco's mouth twisted slightly. "I'll be fine, though. Don't worry about me."

"I'm sorry, I should have told her to stop, it was taking so long, and I knew something was off." Harry let his fingers delve into Draco's hair as he moved closer. "I could stay here with you, until you start to feel better."

"You don't have to do that." Draco assured him. "I'll be fine. I just need some sleep."

"I want to." Harry leaned in and kissed his forehead. "Look at me." He held his other hand up so Draco could see how it shook.

"Afraid of me, are you?" Draco smirked widely.

"Afraid _for_ you." Harry countered, and the other's features softened as he took the shaking hand in his own and kissed the fingertips tenderly.

"I know." He said, "But I really do just want to lie down, have a bit of a nap. And anyway, Hermione will be annoyed if you make her wait out there for too long."

"Alright, then." Harry sighed heavily. "But you're sure you'll be fine?"

"Yes, fabulous," Draco made a broad gesture with one hand, "though I really wish it had worked already."

"Yeah, me too." Harry sighed heavily, and Draco leaned in to kiss him warmly, and then smiled softly up at him.

"She's waiting," he told Harry. "Seriously, I'm fine. Go." But instead of pushing him away, he wrapped his arms around Harry's neck and kissed him deeply. Harry was not consciously moving his arms, but he felt them distantly as they wrapped around Draco's waist. His head was swimming, whether from the lack of air, his relief that Draco didn't seem to be seriously hurt, or just from the sensation of kissing the other man. Likely, it was some combination of all three.

"I love you," Harry breathed as they broke, his fingertips tingling.

"I know." Draco smiled softly, and with another quick kiss, they separated, Draco returning to his cell and Harry rejoining Hermione outside. Almost as soon as he left the interview room, she began speaking.

"Harry, what do you think? Did Malfoy seem honest to you when he talked about his mother?" she asked him, her brow furrowing.

"Er, I guess." Harry wasn't sure where she was going with this, but he'd be the first to admit that he was more inclined to concentrate on how Draco might be feeling at the moment than anything to do with Narcissa Malfoy.

"Hmm…" Hermione frowned, biting his lip and furrowing her brow. "Only…well, doesn't it seem suspicious?"

"How do you mean?" Harry blinked, trying to turn his full attention over to her.

"Well…I'm sure you've noticed," Hermione brushed a stray lock of hair from behind her ear and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "The situation is obviously different when we see the actual deaths of all Draco's 'victims,' but the locations and all the people present remain the same, except in one or two cases where Draco himself was added to a situation, because obviously he can't kill someone if he isn't even there. That made sense, because with memory modification it works better if you change less, and it becomes very difficult if you start adding or removing people or objects or whatnot. So what would be the point of complicating a difficult spell further by putting Narcissa into Draco's memory of killing his father? She doesn't actually _do_ anything in the memory that Draco has other than cry and yell for a bit. Also, we know that the main memory modifier was Lucius, and he couldn't very well make Draco believe that he'd done it from beyond the grave, so that raises questions as well."

"I know." Harry's mouth was a thin line as the pair of them left Azkaban. "I've been thinking about it, and she keeps insisting that she can't help. It makes me wonder if she could have done it."

"That was my first thought." Hermione agreed, "But if she's really no good at Legilimency, that means that not only did she kill her own husband, when in all her previous involvement in this war and the one before she refused to kill anyone, but in addition, she would have needed someone to help her frame Draco, her own son, for the murder."

"It's possible." Harry shrugged.

"Yes, and who modified his memories? Bellatrix, who'd been dead for a while by then? Lucius, who was the victim? Most of her friends and allies and family were already dead. No, it's more likely that if she killed him, she did the modification herself. But how, if she's such a mediocre witch? It isn't easy to convincingly change a memory. Powerful magicians with a lot of practice can do it, but she apparently doesn't meet that criterion."

"She had time. She was married to Lucius Malfoy, are you saying she didn't pick anything up from him?" Harry argued.

"No, as I said, it's a possibility." Hermione conceded. "But I'm not sure that's the truth of it. The block is more powerful and far more seamless than the others I've seen. I would say someone much _more_ skilled than Lucius constructed it. And someone much better versed in memory modification."

"Who?" Harry asked, trying to think of anyone who could match that description.

"Well, I can think of a few dead wizards. Voldemort, Dumbledore, maybe Bellatrix Lestrange. She was very powerful, if not entirely…balanced. Obviously, none of them could have helped, though certainly two of them _might_ have, had they been alive. _You_ could have, if you were better with Legilimency. I'll admit that I might have been able, but why would I? And I hope I'd recall it if I'd helped frame someone for murder. There's only one person alive who could have possibly constructed that block."

"Who?" Harry was getting a bit impatient.

"Snape." She answered, looking at him carefully as she said the name.

"No way." Harry snorted, "Why would he? Besides, he was in hiding then, lying low, as both sides wanted him dead, and Lucius actually thought he had killed him."

"Where?" Hermione questioned. "Do you know _where_ he was? Perhaps a friend of his was keeping him safe. After all he had done for her sake before, is it hard to believe that Narcissa would hide him from her husband? Perhaps she'd grown to care for him more than for Lucius. He certainly was more devoted to Draco and her."

"That's…" Harry shook his head furiously. "Why would he have me investigate the case if he'd helped to cover it up in the first place?"

"Harry, don't be stupid. You knew _already_ he was helping Lucius with the memory modifications. He might have placed this last one to protect Narcissa, but his guilt and hers caused them to lead you _here_." Hermione stomped her foot for emphasis. "Narcissa may not want to take the fall, so I guess we'll see if Snape is willing to send the woman he loves to Azkaban, or if he'd rather an innocent man who's been like a son to him rot in a cell in her place."

"This is…" Harry grumbled. "It _could_ have been Voldemort! We don't know the timeline exactly enough to say whether he had time before we fought to help Narcissa."

"But why would he?" Hermione asked. "Why would he help someone who'd just robbed him of a servant that could have saved his life if he'd been there for your battle?"

"He would have done it just…just to be evil." Harry answered in a frustrated tone.

"Maybe."

To be Continued…


	19. Chapter 19

Shades of Truth

Chapter 19

Harry was drinking.

He wasn't one to drown his sorrows, but he couldn't think of what else to do. He had met with Narcissa, leaving the meeting with no new answers. The woman was infuriating. She _said_ she was concerned about their difficulties with the block they couldn't break, but she didn't offer any assistance, or admit to having the memory they needed.

Hermione had met him today, bringing a response from Snape. He had suggested that there _was_ no block, and that was the problem. Hermione was sure he was hiding the truth. Harry was forced to agree with her.

He had no one to talk to at home. He was afraid to share his concerns with Draco, and it was too late for visiting, in any case. If he talked with Hermione, he'd only feel worse.

So he was at the Three Broomsticks. Drinking.

"A pint here, please!" At the familiar voice, Harry looked up to see Ron sitting next to him at the bar, looking for all the world as though he'd known Harry would be there, as if this were a predetermined meeting. "Hey, mate." He nodded to Harry, grinning as though their last parting had been entirely friendly.

"Hey," Harry managed as Ron received a mug from Madam Rosmerta.

"Rough day at work?" Ron asked. "You look dead on your feet."

"Yeah, I suppose." Harry shrugged. "How are things with you?"

"Great, actually." Ron took a swig of his ale before continuing. "I have a favor to ask."

"Yeah?" Harry looked at Ron's profile, trying to figure where his good cheer was stemming from.

"Any way you can get the day free on May tenth?" he asked.

"I suppose." Harry shrugged.

"Only, Hermione and I were hoping you'd be best man at the wedding." Ron's face suffused with blood as he spoke, and Harry turned to gape at him.

"What?" was all he could get out.

"If the day's no good, we could reschedule." Ron went on, "I know you're busy."

"You set a date?" Harry asked in shock. "Just like that?"

"Yeah." Ron peered at the foam floating on his ale. "After what you said, I thought…"

"Really?" Harry squawked. "I thought I'd only mucked it up worse than ever."

"No, no," Ron shook his head. "Just…just say you'll do it, because I'm still a bit worried. I need you there. For moral support. Also, you're my best mate. And even outside of all that, you know Hermione would want you there."

"I…yes, of course." Harry finally agreed. "It'd be an honor."

"And Hermione says I have to invite Percy, so if you see him looking like he'll try to give a speech, it's your job to stop him. I may have to see his face all day, but there's no reason I should listen to his puffed-up self-importance." Ron requested.

"Sure." Harry took a deep drink and gave Ron a sideways look. It was nice to see things working out for his friends. "This is great. Congratulations."

"Thanks, mate." Ron held up his mug. "Cheers!"

----------

"Sorry I'm late, I couldn't find my—"

"Good morning, Harry," Hermione's eyes were pleading him to not say anything he might regret. The reason for this desperate look was sitting across the table, her pale blonde hair in severe knot, her painted fingernails glistening like silver claws, her smile looking more like a cruel grimace.

Narcissa Malfoy.

"We have a guest this morning." Hermione had a smile on her face so clearly forced that Harry wondered if it was making her face hurt. "I cleared it two days ago."

"Oh." Harry did not quite trust himself to say anything further. He was suddenly not sure how he should act or what Draco expected him to say or do with his mother here, watching them. "Er, hello."

"Why don't you sit down?" Hermione gestured to the chair next to her, standing and pulling him over as he numbly obeyed her. "I thought that having his mother here might help him be in the relaxed state of mind that helps with Legilimency." Harry nodded, still speechless, wondering if Hermione was serious, or if she was up to something. Also, he wondered why she hadn't bothered to warn him that Narcissa was going to be there, making him more nervous than he'd already been about their second attempt at the memory retrieval.

"I'm just so happy to see my dear son; I positively leapt at the chance." Narcissa didn't bother saying that her petitions to visit him had been denied. There was still a lot of concern about Death Eaters escaping, and high security prisoners like Draco could only have visitors who had the endorsement of the Minister of Magic. Harry, by virtue of his role in the war, could get Rufus Scrimgeour to approve almost any request without even having to explain himself. Hermione was considered powerful and trustworthy, even without her association with Harry and his battles. Narcissa, however, was admittedly from an old, rich family, but anti-Death Eater sentiment had made many of those families have to work a lot harder since the end of the war. This meant that Narcissa had no chance of being allowed to visit her son, unless the visit was arranged and chaperoned by a high-up Ministry employee, such as Hermione.

Harry understood the security concerns, but he still thought it was unnecessarily cruel to deny family or friends the ability to see a prisoner. He didn't care for Narcissa Malfoy, and he wondered sometimes whether she cared for anyone but herself, but he knew that Draco must be happy to see his mother, even if his face looked rather blank and guarded at the moment.

"Now that Harry's here, I think we should get started." Hermione was clearly trying her best to keep the peace by acting as though everything was normal. "Draco, are you ready?"

"Yes, let's get this over with." Draco answered sulkily. Harry gave him a small, encouraging smile, but the other man did not seem to notice. He sighed deeply, composing himself, and began recounting his memory of Lucius Malfoy's death in a weary monotone.

Harry could tell that Hermione did not feel as much at ease with Narcissa watching her with that vicious fake smile on her face, and he didn't blame her. However, it made him rather nervous that she would be performing a difficult procedure, which she had already failed at before, with less confidence than she'd had last time. Draco was recklessly trusting her to succeed, and Hermione refused to admit there might be something that she couldn't do. Harry hoped that nothing went wrong, but he was waiting on the edge of his seat to intervene if needed.

"Is this supposed to take so long?" Narcissa asked, just as Harry was really beginning to worry. "I think she's doing it wrong."

"Hush, she needs to concentrate." Harry vented some of his frustration on Narcissa, who immediately turned her glare onto him.

"How can you even _hope_ to understand how I must feel right now, watching my only son, the only family I have left, being put through this ordeal!" she hissed, putting a hand to her heart melodramatically, "I'm entrusting his life and his mental wellbeing to a witch young enough to be my daughter, and worse than that, she's not even a proper pureblood magician, just a muggle-born wretch. _Anything_ could go wrong. She could kill him, or make his mind a worthless puddle of mush. He could end up tied to a bed in St. Mungo's, drooling and gibbering for the rest of his life."

"Yeah, what would people say if your son was in the mental ward?" Harry hissed back at her. "Don't think that I could care less. No one is better qualified than Hermione to deal with this. If she can't break through the block without hurting Draco, no one can." Harry stood up, leaning forward in an aggressive stance, "_Maybe_ if someone _else_ would volunteer their memory, Draco wouldn't have to risk himself in the first place!"

Narcissa let out a squeak of fright, and for a moment, Harry thought she was actually afraid he would pull out his wand or lunge across the table and attack her, but then he saw that a small drop of blood was slowly sliding down Draco's pale chin, leaving a crimson trail leading back to his nose.

"Hermione, stop!" Harry roared, and he knocked her wand across the room before racing around the table to reach Draco. Narcissa was clutching her hands to her cheeks in what might have been a comical show of melodrama in a less alarming situation, her mouth open in terror as Draco slid sideways to the floor, his eyes rolling back into his head, and his entire body convulsing.

Harry finally reached Draco's side, wincing as the man's head audibly cracked against the floor before he could stop the fall. He was panicking, he knew, trying to hold the unresponsive blonde in his arms as Draco continued to seize, and then he realized that he was probably not really helping, and that Hermione was not yet scolding him for this.

He looked around for the other witch and spotted her approaching rather shakily, slowly wiping her mouth and breathing heavily. That was when he noted the smell, and saw that she had apparently thrown up some time between when he had intervened and now.

"Don't…hold him so tight." Her voice was thick, groggy sounding, and she seemed to be struggling to reach them. "You have to…just let it pass…move that chair." Harry was so terrified that Draco was convulsing and that Hermione might be too spent to do anything for him that he did not question her and automatically obeyed.

"Stupid girl! What have you done?!" Narcissa finally intervened, pushing Hermione aside so forcefully that she cracked her head against the table and crumpled in a heap. Harry immediately moved away from the chair he'd been getting out of the way to stop her when she grabbed Draco and waved her wand about in what he determined to be a rather violent manner.

"What are you doing?" Harry demanded, and she nearly took his head off. "Hermione said to let it pass! You'll make it worse!"

"Shut up!" she turned back to Draco, and after a moment, his convulsing looked more like violent trembling, and then he seemed to be twitching, and suddenly, he was still. "Idiot child. I've seen worse than _this_. You forget who I was married to. Do you think I cannot handle _this?_ My own _son?_"

"What…is he breathing?" Harry asked, suddenly cowed.

"Of _course_ he is." She sniffed delicately. "See to your girlfriend." She waved over at Hermione, who was out cold, in a heap where she still lay.

"Ennervate," Harry wasn't quite as good at medical magic as Hermione, but he knew the standard spells well enough. Hermione groaned and sat up slowly, holding her head and glaring at Narcissa. Then her eyes traveled down to Malfoy's perfectly still form, and she crawled over quickly, ignoring her own discomfort.

"Is he…"

"It's ridiculous, how you persist in this." Narcissa spoke before Hermione could finish her question. "You could have _killed_ him."

"I'm sorry, I got…trapped, somehow. I couldn't pull back, but I couldn't find anything, either." Hermione was clearly shaken. Harry joined them, desperately wanting to hold Draco's hand, to feel its reassuring warmth, but he saw that Narcissa already had his hand clutched desperately in one of her own. Her other hand was busily pushing back his hair and combing it straight.

"When you enter someone's mind, their will can influence you." Narcissa's voice lost its sharp edge. "If Draco wants the truth enough, he'll keep you there until you can find it, or until he dies." There was a silence then, and Harry realized with dawning terror that Narcissa Malfoy was crying. "I'm not…I try to do my best for him. I love him; however I may seem to you."

"I didn't know he could hold me like that, or I'd never have tried again. It's…it's just too dangerous." Hermione was now crying as well, for any of a host of reasons. Harry was too confused to analyze her emotions just then.

"He'll be all right." Narcissa leaned down and kissed his forehead. "Let him sleep for a while. He'll have a headache when he wakes." She stood then, brushing her robes down smoothly. "When he wakes, tell him I'm sorry."

"Are you leaving?" Hermione tried to stand but it was clear she was still rather weak, and she only ended up kneeling.

"Thank you for letting me see him." She replied, pausing as she stood at the table, her back to the three people on the floor. "I…wish you luck. With his case." Then she swiftly crossed to the door and left.

"Okay," Harry had made himself comfortable, crossing his legs and arranging Draco into a curled up ball in his lap so the man could at least be warm, if not entirely dignified, while he slept. "You know I trust you, right? What was that all about?"

"Well, I've _heard_ of issues with Legilimency, when the Legilimens isn't as strong as the object of the retrieval, but I didn't think…" Hermione sighed deeply, and Harry could see she was still crying. "I'm so sorry, I guess I didn't know Draco was that strong, or that determined…Oh, Harry, it wasn't supposed to happen this way. Will you ever forgive me?"

"Hermione, I know you'd never purposefully hurt Draco." He assured her, "I just meant, why was _she_ here?"

"I thought that if it didn't work again, she'd reconsider and offer up her memory, rather than let anything serious happen." She shook her head. "I tried to owl you a warning, but you must not have gotten it."

"Oh…" Harry flushed as he thought of the unopened envelope in his kitchen. "I…I did. I thought that was a wedding invitation. I haven't opened it."

"What? Didn't Ron _already_ invite you? He was supposed to ask you to be—"

"Best man, yeah, I know." Harry answered. "He did. I said yes, but…"

"What?" Hermione pressed.

"Well, won't he change his mind when he finds out about his?" Harry finally voiced the worry that had caused him to avoid thinking about the wedding, stopping him even from opening Hermione's letter. "I know what I'm doing is right, and I'll stand by Draco whatever anyone thinks, but…I wish I could say that I could still have Ron as a friend as well."

"Harry," Hermione wiped up her tears. "Don't say that! Ron will be mad, of course he will. Even before the war, he hated Draco. Now he blames him for Ginny's death, and for Fred's. But when he sees that Draco had nothing to do with all that, he'll get over it. I wouldn't bet on Ron and Draco ever really getting along, but I'm sure they'll eventually even be civil with each other, if only for your sake."

"Yeah right." Harry sighed deeply. "I wouldn't bet on Ron being so forgiving. If he ever even speaks to me again…it could be , won't he change his mind when he finds out about his?" Harry finally voiced the worry that had caused him to avoid thinking about the wedding, stopping him even from opening Hermione's letter. "I know what I'm doing is right, and I'll stand by Draco whatever anyone thinks, but…I wish I could say that I could still have Ron as a friend as well."

"Harry," Hermione wiped up her tears. "Don't say that! Ron will be mad, of course he will. Even before the war, he hated Draco. Now he blames him for Ginny's death, and for Fred's. But when he sees that Draco had nothing to do with all that, he'll get over it. I wouldn't bet on Ron and Draco ever really getting along, but I'm sure they'll eventually even be civil with each other, if only for your sake."

"Yeah right." Harry sighed deeply. "I wouldn't bet on Ron being so forgiving. If he ever even speaks to me again…it could be _years_, Hermione."

"Well, I'll be on your side, Harry," Hermione assured him, "So I guess Ron will have to decide if hating Draco forever is really worth losing both of us over."

"No, Hermione." Harry told her firmly. "I told you when I first asked for your help that I didn't want this to come between you two. He doesn't need to know you knew, or helped me, or anything."

"I'd tell him anyway, Harry." Hermione gave him a small smile. "Keeping things like this secret…he'd figure it out eventually, or find out somehow, and then it would be worse. I'd rather tell him myself."

"Don't be stupid, Hermione." Harry told her vehemently. "It isn't worth it. You two are finally going to be married."

"If he'd leave me over this, I don't _want_ to marry him." Hermione countered firmly. "Trust me, Harry. I've really thought about this. This is what I want."

"Well…I warned you." Harry shrugged as best he could with his arms full of Draco.

"Still…" she spoke after a long silence. "I can't help worrying."

"About Ron and you?" he asked.

"About everything." She gave him a nervous grin. "But we've stuck together through everything. The least I can do is stick with you through this."

"Thanks, Hermione." He reached out to her and she took his hand, squeezing it warmly.

"I know you must be desperate to leave Weasley for someone better looking," Draco's voice startled them so badly; Harry nearly dumped him to the floor. "But Harry's spoken for."

"Are you feeling all right?" Harry asked, using both hands to turn Draco's face up toward his.

"It smells like someone was sick in here." He finally answered.

"Sorry." Hermione blushed moving to clean up her mess.

"Where's mother?" he turned about, but made no attempt to leave Harry's lap.

"She left." Harry answered, "She said she was sorry."

"Oh, thank Merlin," Draco lunged in and began kissing Harry ravenously.

"Weren't you _just_ unconscious?" Hermione had used Scourgify on the mess near the table, and was now standing up, examining her wand to be sure Harry had not damaged it at all.

"Shush, Granger, do you know how much more you want to do things when you know you can't?" Draco broke his assault momentarily to answer her. "It was horrible."

"You could have _died_." Hermione was apparently satisfied with the state of her wand, so she put it away. "You two are so—"

"Pretend you don't like it, and I'll pretend to believe you." Draco finally let up when he realized Harry was not going to let him put his hands down his pants. "Enjoy the free show. I wouldn't usually be so affectionate in front of someone else."

"It worked!" Hermione was completely ignoring them, doing some odd sort of dance. "Look, look!"

"What?" Harry helped Draco stand so they could see what Hermione was so excited about.

"Look what she left!" Hermione pointed at the table, and they saw what she had found. There it stood, shining and small and delicate.

Narcissa's memory.

To be Continued…


	20. Chapter 20

Shades of Truth

Chapter 20

As soon as Harry entered the interview room, he was nearly attacked by Draco, who lunged into his arms and kissed him exuberantly.

"So, you seem to be feeling better." Harry teased as Hermione, who had come to see the memory they'd been trying to get so long, grumbled about hormonal boys while getting the Pensieve ready.

"Most people wouldn't be so happy to see their father die." Hermione spoke up as she gestured for them to join her.

"That isn't why, and you know it. I'm just glad we finally have everything we need for the appeal. It almost feels like I'm already free."

"I'm just glad there'll be no more retrievals." Harry dropped another light kiss on Draco's cheek. "My nerves are shot."

"With all the work you had to do." Hermione teased him as he sat down between her and Draco.

"You know what I mean." Harry shook his head and laced his fingers through Draco's.

"Let's get this over with." Draco prompted, and after a moment, Hermione created a projection for them all to watch.

"Hurry, we must leave." Narcissa was in a small room, and the only other person present was Draco, who was lying listlessly in bed while she frantically sorted through his belongings and magically packed the ones she saw as necessary. "Draco, would you _please_ just move! The Ministry is on their way now, and there will be a battle. If you stay, you could be captured, or killed."

"So?" Draco finally replied, not leaving the bed. "That's what I deserve, after all I've done."

"Nonsense, Draco, you've done nothing wrong." Narcissa finished her packing and knelt next to the bed, her face full of pleading. "I will not have you go into battle against fully trained Aurors! My dear boy, please, for my sake, come with me."

"Father would want me to stay." Draco answered, looking like he would be no help to anyone in the battle to come. "He would want me to fight."

"Draco, dear, you must not throw your life away!" Narcissa seemed to be on the verge of tears. "Who will I have if your father and you both…"

"Failing faith in our side, mother?" Draco sighed and rolled over, staring at the ceiling. "Father would be so disappointed."

"This is not the time to die needlessly! You're no more fit for battle than I am! Do you want your own mother to die defending you?" she was clearly becoming hysterical, which was something Harry never thought he'd see, and it was making him more than a little uncomfortable.

"Then leave, mother." He answered her. "Leave me here and go. You'll be better off without me. For all you know, I could turn on you tomorrow, and I don't want to kill you."

"Draco, you would never…" Narcissa forcefully turned his face so that he was looking at her. "Listen to me, I know you, and you are a gentle boy. You would never hurt me."

"Mother, I killed Snape." Draco replied, his voice like cold steel as a tear slid down his cheek. "He was my friend, he was like a father to me, and I killed him. I might do the same to you, or to anyone. It's better if I die or am locked away, so that I can't hurt anyone I care about."

"Draco, listen to me." Narcissa's voice was low, as though she was afraid of being overheard. "You mustn't tell your father, he would be furious if he knew I was telling you, but_ you_ have not killed anyone." She pushed his hair back and wiped away the trail of his single tear. "He has made you think these things so that you would find it in yourself to take a life, so you could fight at his side. He thought…if you believed yourself to be a killer, you would have no problem killing. Your _father_ killed Severus, he's only made you think—"

"Wait," the young man stirred then, he was hastily pulling on his robes. "Father used…he modified my memories?"

"Yes, Draco, so you mustn't blame yourself!" Narcissa seemed excited that Draco was now out of bed. "We must leave now."

"He killed Snape?" Draco went on, shuffling through a stack of papers as though looking for something. "And he made me think…" he stopped then, and they saw that he was clutching his wand so tightly it looked as though he might snap it in half. "And those others…"

"He was trying to make you into a soldier for the Dark Lord. He was doing it out of love!" she seemed to notice that Malfoy was clearly furious.

"Wait here, mother." Draco actually leaned over and kissed his mother's cheek. "If I'm not back in twenty minutes, leave without me."

"What? Where are you—" but before she could stop him, Draco Disapparated, and they were left watching Narcissa, who was clearly desperate to find her son and get out of there immediately. She let out a few choice curses as she flew out of the room and began a hurried search for Draco. Harry understood her frustration. He had wanted to find Voldemort as soon as he arrived at the headquarters, but that had been considerably more difficult to do than he'd hoped.

"What's that?" Harry asked when she stopped racing around aimlessly and pulled out something like a compass or a large necklace from underneath the neck of her robes.

"A gift from my father, he had it made just after I was born. It can be used to locate a specific person, but…well, there's blood involved, so of course it's considered Dark Magic." Draco explained as his mother put the large pendant away and began running in a new direction.

"Your father had a Locater Charm made for you?" Hermione looked both repulsed and intrigued. "When you were only a _baby?_"

"Well, he wanted my mother to always be able to find me." Draco justified sullenly. "It doesn't take _that_ much blood."

"It takes nearly half a liter! Where'd he _get_ so much! How are you _alive?_" Hermione was completely indignant.

"He didn't take it all at _once_." Draco rolled his eyes. "You make it sound like he killed a hundred babies to make my mother a shiny necklace. It wasn't like that at all."

"Does she still have it?" Hermione asked, still clearly disgusted that someone could methodically bleed their own baby for such a purpose.

"Probably." Draco shrugged. "Unless it was confiscated."

"Do…do you think she'd let me see it?" Hermione asked, her eyes bright and eager. "Only, I've never seen one that still has a living object, and it'd be _fascinating_ to study."

"Hermione, please." Harry stopped her before she became too engrossed in her interest in rare magical objects.

In the projection, Narcissa was just bursting into a study, where books and other objects were flying through the air in so many directions, she was nearly knocked out immediately, and had to duck and dodge quite skillfully to avoid being hit. "Draco, no!"

Draco and his father were facing off in the middle of the room, wands firing Stunners back and forth. Neither of them seemed to take any notice of their new audience, they were so utterly concentrated on their duel. "Please, both of you! This is no time to fight amongst ourselves!"

"You're the one who told him!" Lucius roared, but he did not take his eyes away from Draco as he masterfully dodged a spell that hit a bookshelf and sent more detritus flying. "What did you _think_ would happen, you fool?"

"Don't blame this on her!" Draco's face was unnaturally pale, except for the brilliant red splotches on his cheeks that spoke of his rage. "You wanted me to be a murderer, just like you, and you're surprised I get angry that you're forcing it on me?" He looked as though he would fight his father until there was nothing left in him. He looked as though he actually had it in him to kill. Harry felt his heartbeat quicken with dread as he saw a face so twisted with rage and hate that it was almost unrecognizable as the man he'd grown to love. He had never feared Draco, but in that moment, he saw that even this boy who had more compassion than anyone gave him credit for, could find the rage in him needed to cast the Killing Curse.

"Please! No!" Narcissa was crying, and Harry felt oddly ill. This wasn't what he was expecting. Surely, he could see her pull out her wand. She would strike the killing blow, as Hermione and he had suspected. But something wasn't right. She was aiming for Draco, and even Lucius had seen. He dropped his guard in surprise just as Draco shot a horribly unmistakable bolt of green at his father.

"Obliviate!" Narcissa shrieked, and Harry saw at that moment what she had attempted to do to remedy the situation, too late. If she'd been faster, the duel might have ended without anyone dying. She, too, realized that she had missed her chance, and ran to Draco, screaming for him to stop and sobbing uncontrollably.

"Mother…" Draco was clearly disoriented, as his mother had just wiped part of his memories of what had just happened, in her panic. "What…"

"No, Draco, you couldn't have…you didn't mean to." Narcissa babbled as she clutched her son. "You loved your father!"

"I…killed him?" Draco looked down at her and at the body, and then at his wand in growing alarm and confusion. "I…but why?"

"No, Draco, please!" she tried to hold him to her, but he raced out of the room in a hurry as Harry and Hermione watched in horror. The scene began to fade, and the three of them sat in silence for some time.

"I really did it, then?" Draco looked rather greenish, as though he might be sick.

"I…didn't expect that." Hermione's words might have been one of the greatest understatements ever, but Harry couldn't be sure.

"Well," Draco was beginning to regain his composure, but Harry suspected that his sudden calm was merely a façade. "Now we know why you couldn't break the block. The only thing hidden is what happened right before I killed him, not during."

"And right after that…I Stunned you." Harry finally found words. "No wonder you were too distracted to block the attack."

"Well, for all we know I could have been headed for a murderous rampage." Draco guessed. "So it's a good job you caught me. As it was, I only killed my father, and I think that only really upset my mother."

"It's weird hearing Narcissa talk about Snape's death as though she saw it. Did he ever tell you about that, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"No, kind of a sore spot for him." Harry answered, still feeling rather nauseous himself.

"No wonder Narcissa wouldn't give you the memory before." Hermione sighed deeply as the pieces all slid together. "We thought she was protecting herself, but she was really protecting Draco all along."

"I told you she's a good mother." Draco shrugged, "Mostly."

"But now what?" Harry felt a deep despair as he thought about all the work they'd done. "He _did_ kill Lucius. That means there's no point appealing. He's still guilty of one of the counts."

"No, Harry, you need to learn to see the grey area here." Hermione turned to them both, determination in her eyes. "Yes, Draco killed Lucius. But does that one death mean he deserves to stay in Azkaban for life?"

"You can go to Azkaban just for _trying_ the Killing Curse." Draco replied in a dry tone. "Succeeding is even more frowned upon."

"Yes, but there isn't one person in this room that didn't kill someone in the war. Harry's killed loads of people, and he didn't even have to stand trial." Hermione went on excitedly.

"Hermione, that isn't making me feel better." Harry sighed deeply.

"But think about it!" Hermione exclaimed, well into her topic now. "Why aren't you in prison if you killed people? Why am I still free as well?"

"Well, we only killed Death Eaters." Harry told her. Suddenly he thought he knew what she was thinking.

"And Lucius Malfoy—"

"_Was_ a Death Eater!" Harry took up her line of thought with sudden excitement. "And, he was a _really_ bad one! Not like the younger ones that didn't do much. He killed loads of innocent people, and tortured them…"

"I really appreciate that you two find the murder of my father to be perfectly excusable, but I don't think I'll get off just because he was an evil, mind-fucking bastard." Draco cut in.

"But Draco, what you did…you helped defeat Voldemort! Lucius would have definitely been hard to just subdue or capture, and if Harry had to face both of them at once, he may have died!" Hermione explained excitedly. "Don't you see? I know you feel guilty for killing someone, but we all do. That _happens_ during a war."

"So the only difference between being a murderer or not is which side wins?" Draco shook his head slowly. "I'm sorry, but it still seems like what I did was murder, and it was wrong."

"Do…do you _want_ to stay in Azkaban?" Harry asked finally, his chest feeling suddenly tight.

"No, I'll go along with your defense." Draco answered finally, smiling sadly at them both. "I just thought…well, I wanted to know that I had never killed anyone. I wanted to feel innocent. Redeemed. And I feel…I feel like I'm a killer. Like I'm dangerous, and maybe…"

"Don't say it." Harry suddenly hugged Draco, as if to stop the words. "Don't say you deserve to be here, or that you belong here. Someone once told me that casualties of war aren't only the names on tombstones. I don't want you to give up on your chance to live a normal life, a _good_ life. You may not believe me when I say that you're a good person, but you know what I've done, and you still love me. You still think I'm good, and maybe someday you'll forgive yourself as well."

"I don't know what I did to deserve this." Draco spoke into Harry's shoulder. "But I'm glad you're here to believe I'm _capable_ of a normal life."

"Ooh, you two are so sweet." They looked over at Hermione, who had tears streaming down her face. She flushed as they stared at her. "Sorry, sorry, private moment."

To be Continued…


	21. Chapter 21

Shades of Truth

Chapter 21

"This is a very bad idea." Harry told Hermione as he helped her set out plates for dinner. "I mean, I know you said all that stuff about honesty and communication in your relationship, but I'm pretty sure if you tell him what we've been up to, you won't _have_ a relationship to be honest about."

"You are _not_ helping me feel good here." Hermione pursed her lips, counting out silverware before she looked up at him again. "But…I was meaning to ask, if Ron kicks me out, can I stay with you for a while?"

"I thought_ you_ paid for this flat?" Harry quirked a brow at her.

"Well, yes, but he was such a junior official at the time, he makes _much_ better money now. And he does his share." Hermione shrugged. "Also, when Ron gets really angry, he doesn't think about trivial details like that."

"Okay, sure, fine." Harry felt his stomach flip over as he heard a key rattle in the front door. "Oh Merlin, that's him!"

"Stop running around like that! Act normal!" Hermione practically threw Harry down into a chair, where he felt a cold sweat break out on his brow. "Look happy!"

"I'm trying!" Harry bit his lip and struggled to quash his misgivings.

"I'm home!" Ron's words would have caused Harry to leap out of his chair if Hermione hadn't been holding him in place with unexpected strength.

"Welcome home!" Hermione sounded rather shrill to Harry's ear as she turned to greet her fiancé, but Ron didn't seem to notice anything was amiss.

"Harry! Good to see you!" Ron reached out to hug Harry, who was yanked upward by Hermione to receive the greeting before shoving him back down in his chair.

"Is that…did you make dinner?" Ron smiled brightly and gave Hermione a swift kiss on the lips before going into the kitchen to investigate with her. Just as they passed out of the dining room, Hermione shot a look at Harry that clearly told him he was not allowed to move. "You didn't have to…smells great!" Harry could only hear snatches of Ron's speech before Hermione and him came back in with all the food.

All through dinner, Harry could tell that Hermione's strategy to butter Ron up with a good meal was going well, but he didn't know how much it would help. He concentrated on eating, and on enjoying what could well be his last moments of camaraderie with Ron.

"Ron," Hermione finally broached the dreaded topic after dessert. "Harry and I have something we need to tell you."

"Mmph?" Ron was busy licking his bowl.

"Well, you know how Harry's been working on a case for a while now? And how I've been helping him on some of it?" Hermione began, "We're going to be petitioning the Minister of Magic for an appeal."

"An appeal?" Ron quirked a brow in confusion. "Whose case are you appealing?"

"Draco Malfoy's." Harry finally spoke, hoping that Hermione had been right about Ron being "much more reasonable these days." Ron froze, dropping his bowl with a clatter to the table.

"What?" Ron's voice was deadly calm.

"He's…well, we found all this stuff, and it turns out he didn't really kill all those people." Harry thought it suddenly didn't sound very convincing. "So…so we're appealing his case."

"What?" Ron still hadn't moved. Hermione licked her lips before making her own attempt.

"We found out, you see, that Draco was little more than a prisoner during the war, and that his memories were modified to make him believe that he had killed all those people." Hermione explained. "And we had to track down all these _other_ people who had memories of what had really happened."

"And some of them, Hermione had to use Legilimency to break the modification and find out what Draco's real memory had been." Harry offered. "And she had to use Moody's _eye_ to get that one, because everyone at that murder is dead now."

"Yeah." Hermione nodded sharply. "But…well, we wanted to be _sure_ before we told you, since we didn't think you'd be very keen on the idea. But we've got all the evidence we need, now. So we're going to go ahead with the appeal. But we wanted to let you know first."

"Is this…a joke?" Ron was clutching his spoon so tightly that his knuckles were white. "Because if it is, it's a really bad one."

"It's no joke." Harry assured him. "I know, it's hard to believe, but he didn't do any of those things everyone thinks he did."

"He killed Ginny!" Ron stood, throwing the spoon down as he gathered steam. "He killed Fred! He killed half our friends!"

"No he didn't!" Harry rose as well, surprised that he was more upset on Draco's behalf than he was concerned about Ron's feelings at the moment. "Didn't you listen to anything we just told you? Lucius killed Ginny _and_ Fred! I've seen it myself! Then he made Draco believe he had done it!"

"Why would he go to so much trouble?!" Ron was in a rage. "Why would you believe such an idiotic lie?"

"He wanted Draco to be able to kill, and he thought if he had memories of doing it, that would help." Hermione was the only one who was still not yelling, but she was on her feet as well. "Draco's only crime is being a Death Eater who refused to kill anyone."

"That is…this…I can't believe _you're_ buying into this!" Ron turned on Hermione.

"Have a little faith in me!" Hermione stomped her heel down sharply. "Do you think I'd believe any of this if I didn't know it was true? Come to the trial, you can see the truth yourself."

"This is ridiculous!" Ron tossed his napkin aside in a futile display of anger. "Even if it were true…which it's _not!_ Even then, he's still an evil little worm! He still deserves to rot in Azkaban!"

"Ron, he's not _like_ that!" Hermione reached out to him, but he swiped her hand away angrily. "He's actually a very good person, and if you'd give him a chance and just _listen_ to him, and know what he went through, I think you'd see—"

"I cannot _believe_ you're telling me _Draco Malfoy_ is really a good person deep down! Are you even hearing yourself? Does he have you both under the Imperius Curse or something, because at this point, I'm starting to think that's the only explanation!" Ron ranted.

"Don't be stupid!" Harry was barely able to keep his own anger in check at this point. He hadn't expected to be so upset by what Ron thought of Draco, but the subject hadn't been discussed at any length since he was imprisoned years ago. "Draco _is_ a good person, and if you could just grow up and get past your own petty schoolboy grudges, maybe you could give him a fair chance!"

"Harry, you, of _all_ people should know that Draco's been a Death Eater since he was born!" Ron crossed toward Harry, as though he'd be able to use his extra height to win the argument. "He's probably killed ten times more people than what he got put away for! He was probably killing muggles for fun before he even came to Hogwarts! He's a worthless, evil git, and you have to know that if anyone deserves to die, or to get the Dementors' kiss, it's him!"

Harry felt his rage boil over, and before he could think it through, or calm himself at all, he swept back and lunged forward, fists flying. He heard Hermione scream distantly, as though she were very far away, and noted with a detached sense of observation that they had knocked a cabinet off its hinges before they both ended up on the floor in a flurry of kicks and punches.

He was furious, and he couldn't stop himself, but it wasn't long before Hermione got sick of waiting for them to cause further damage to her flat, and swiftly put the full body-bind on the pair of them, letting them stew as she straightened up the mess they'd made in their brief tussle.

"You _broke_ the cabinet!" she scolded them as they lay frozen where they'd been wrestling, halfway under the table. "I love these cabinets…and _look_ at this!" she showed them a few shards of broken porcelain. "My _grandmother's _ teacups! I can't _believe_ you two! I hope you're satisfied, rolling around like a pair of overly aggressive teenagers, messing up the flat I spent _all_ day cleaning!" she paused, using a quick spell to first mend the cups and then fix the cabinet. "And Ron! I can't _believe_ you ripped that shirt! It's practically new! Clearly, it wasn't designed for wrestling and breaking _my_ cabinets in!" she knelt, quickly mending the shirt. "And your faces…I _should_ just leave you to explain to everyone that you are under the misapprehension that you are both still twelve, and that fighting is a good way to solve problems. But no, I'm not vindictive." She sighed heavily, swiftly healing the various injuries they'd given each other. "But I _swear_, if you don't behave like grown-ups when I let you out of that body-bind, I'll hex you both again, and I'll just leave you two here to keep each other warm all night long. Got it?" she asked, as though either of them could move or reply while she still had them frozen. "And Ronald, I swear, if you say _one_ more horrible thing about Draco, you can forget about sleeping in the same _building_ as me, much less the same bed." And with that final threat, she removed the spell.

Taking her threat seriously, Ron, who clearly couldn't think of anything nice to say, kept his silence while sullenly standing and brushing himself off. Harry followed suit, and the two men glowered at each other in silence until Hermione clicked her tongue at them both in irritation.

"Now, Ron, I understand that you're disappointed to find out that Draco isn't a vicious mass murderer, but you'll just have to come to terms with that." She wagged her finger at her fiancé in an admonitory fashion before turning on the other man, "And Harry, I know you want Draco and Ron to be good friends, but that is going to take _time_, if it ever even happens, and until they can learn to be civil toward each other, you'll just have to learn not to fly off the handle every time Ron impugns Draco's morality, or Draco makes a crack about weasels. It shouldn't be such a struggle. They've been making cheap shots at each other since you first met them."

"Fine." They both grumbled.

"Now, we're all still friends, aren't we?" Hermione crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows expectantly.

"Yeah, I guess." Ron grumbled. Harry nodded sulkily.

"And Ron, would you _still_ like Harry to be our best man at the wedding?" she turned her steely gaze entirely on the redhead.

"Of course." Ron muttered in an aggravated tone. "He's my best mate."

"Very good." Hermione smiled in a way that Harry found less reassuring and more terrifying than anything else. "Now, hug."

There was a long moment of silent hesitation as they realized that if they didn't do as she said, she would not let either of them go. Finally, they managed an awkward embrace with a few overly forceful pats of the shoulder.

"Okay, very good." She stepped between them when they separated, going on tiptoes to lightly kiss Ron, then Harry, on their cheeks. "Don't ever wrestle in the house again." And then she hugged Harry warmly, and he saw there were tears in her eyes. "Good night, Harry."

"Thank you." He wasn't sure exactly why he was thanking her, but he could think of a dozen reasons off the top of his head.

----------

"Stop fidgeting," Hermione lightly smacked Harry's hands as he worried a fold of his robes. "They aren't going to give a verdict any faster if you tear a hole in your robes. Also, your picture will look rather silly."

"They won't take my picture, this is about Draco." Harry told her.

"They take your picture when you go out for ice cream." Hermione chided him. Ron was there as well, sitting silently on her other side, holding her hand and refusing to meet Harry's gaze. Hermione had advised Harry that he "just needed time," though they were both hopeful that after seeing the evidence, he would stop giving Harry the cold shoulder. Harry was just glad that Hermione and Ron were still planning on getting married.

Harry wished that he could hold Draco's hand. He was sure that Draco must be much more nervous than he was, but he had to sit in the defendant's chair in the middle of the room, which he at least wasn't chained to. This was partially due to the fact that Harry had been very clear with Scrimgeour about how displeased he would be to see Draco in chains. Hermione had scolded him for threatening the Minister of Magic, but it was well worth it.

"As you know, a two-thirds majority is required to overthrow a previous verdict of the Wizengamot." The very man Harry had been thinking of finally spoke to the assembly, and he felt himself sit straighter than before, his attention fixed on the large judicial body. "If the verdict _should_ be overthrown, a simple one-half majority is required to decide on the new verdict and sentence. Now then, all those who believe we should overthrow eleven counts of murder, please raise your hands at this time." At this, Harry felt his throat tighten and his heart soar as nearly all the hands went into the air. After a moment spent counting, the Minister spoke again, "All those who find the defendant guilty on all counts?" Only a few hands went up, and Harry nearly melted in relief.

"I don't see how you're surprised." Hermione whispered. "Honestly, everyone knows what side _you're_ on, and you seriously underestimate your political clout." Harry spared her a swift grin before the assembly was once more addressed.

"Very well. Previous verdict is overthrown." Scrimgeour shuffled some papers and waited for his scribe to finish feverishly scribbling everything down. "Now, one the single count of murder remaining, there must be a decision about whether it is a punishable offense, or a victory against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, as suggested today. All those in favor of further imprisonment, please raise your hand." Harry was worried this time, it was hard to tell if there was a majority or not before the Minister spoke again. "Those in favor of full pardon?" again, several hands went up, and Harry could see it would be a close call. The Minister brought his gavel down twice before speaking one last time. "Very well. Pardon granted. Mr. Malfoy, you are free to go."

Harry could hardly believe his ears. Hermione was giggling and clapping, tears streaming down her face as she kissed first Ron, and then him. He stood, hoping to get near Draco, but there was little hope of that as he was swiftly swept away by his Auror escorts who were possibly just trying to protect him from some very aggressive reporters. Draco would need to return to Azkaban for a full discharge, which translated into a massive heap of paperwork. Harry could only barely seem him trying to escape while also politely answering questions as he suddenly found his vision eclipsed by Narcissa Malfoy, who accosted him outright, actually deigning to kiss his dirty Mudblood cheek, and even hugged Hermione as if the young woman were her own daughter, babbling excitedly about how she would forever be in their debt. Hermione was so surprised at this show of affection, she was momentarily struck speechless, while Ron was staring at the scene as though Voldemort and all his minions were back from the dead and putting on a surprisingly good tap dance performance for him.

Then, just as Draco was swept out of the courtroom altogether, Pansy Parkinson came over in tears, hugging Harry and kissing him so many times that he was quite positive that he'd be seeing _that_ picture on the front page of the Daily Prophet. Then she embraced Hermione as if they were old friends, and even planted a warm kiss right on Ron's utterly horrified mouth before leaving.

Zabini and Nott were both there as well, the former's presence much less shocking than the latter's. Blaise shook Harry's hand firmly and then swept Hermione up in his arms and kissed her so soundly that he was then forced to flee lest Ron curse him ten ways past Sunday. Nott shook both of their hands rather stiffly, but didn't say anything about the trial, only asking when Harry would take him out drinking again, before melting back into the crowd before anyone could accuse him of socializing. That was when the scribe, a very red-faced Ernie MacMillan, approached to pompously offer them congratulations and ask several questions about their current careers so that he could go on at length about his own role in the Ministry. Sighing inwardly, Harry realized he would not be seeing Draco until he was actually discharged, and decided to at least pretend to pay attention to Ernie. He took comfort in Hermione's hand in his own, and the small smile Ron spared him just before they left.

To be Continued…


	22. Chapter 22

Shades of Truth

Chapter 22

"This is ridiculous." Narcissa Malfoy was not as happy as she could have been. "Why stay in some hovel in London when you could be home with your dear mum?"

"First, as I already told you, Harry's house is the old Black mansion on Grimmauld Place, and you know very well that it is _not_ a hovel. Second, please remember that I am no longer five years old, and do not speak to me like that." Draco's voice was weary, and Harry could tell that this discussion had started hours before his own arrival at Azkaban.

"But…you're a Malfoy! Wouldn't you be happier at Malfoy Manor?" Narcissa persisted.

"No, mother, I'm a grown man. I want to live on my own. Please respect my wishes." Draco didn't even bother to look at her, possibly because he didn't want her to see the irritation etched deeply in his expression. "I love you, and I appreciate all that you've done to help exonerate me, but my wish is to live in London. Harry was gracious enough to offer me a room while I find a nice flat of my own. And I assure you, if I decide to come home, I will. In the mean time, I suggest you enjoy your life as an eligible widow with a sizeable estate."

"Are you…do you suggest I should _remarry_?" Narcissa was clearly scandalized. "But, wouldn't you be _devastated_?"

"Mother, I killed your last husband." Draco told her in a dry tone. "I should be the last person whose opinion should worry you. And in any case, I wouldn't care one fig. I'm sure you'd be a lot less meddlesome if you had some hot young wizard to occupy your time." Harry could barely stifle his laughter as Draco left his mother flushing madly and speechless while the pair of them left with Draco's personal effects in tow.

"I can't believe you said that to your own mother." Harry shook his head once she couldn't possible hear them.

"What? She needs a good shag." Draco answered with a perfectly innocent expression, causing Harry to nearly collapse with mirth. "She _does_."

----------

"So this is my room." Harry opened the door so Draco could see the freshly tidied space. "And I…well, I wasn't sure, so I made a bed up for you over here." He closed the door and led Draco down the hall to another room. "I picked this one because it has the biggest closet…and I didn't know…well…" Harry decided to stop talking about sleeping arrangements. "And the bathroom is right over here. Well, there are other ones, but I don't really use them, so they might be a bit dusty."

"Oh…could I…I mean, would you mind?" Draco had drifted into the bathroom and was lovingly stroking the edge of the shower. "It's been so long since I had a proper shower. With real shampoo…" Draco was now practically salivating. So was Harry, but likely not for the same reason.

"No, that's fine. Help yourself. I can put out some of my clean clothes as well, if you want. They aren't…" Draco pounced on him, kissing him enthusiastically.

"That would be great." He smiled warmly. "And…I'm a little hungry…" he somehow made that sound like it had two meanings.

"I'll make some lunch." Harry told him immediately, feeling his cheeks reddening.

"Thanks," Draco dropped another swift kiss on his cheek before pushing him out of the bathroom. "Love you!"

"I…" Harry was still struggling with himself when Draco closed the bathroom door. Taking a deep breath, he went to his own room and found a t-shirt and jeans that were clean, walked back to the bathroom, and knocked.

"Thanks again!" Draco cracked the door to get the clothes, affording Harry a glimpse of his pale, naked chest. Harry was still standing outside the bathroom when the shower was turned on, and his mind was suddenly full of images of Draco, naked, wet, rubbing himself…

Harry decided to concentrate on lunch. He made sandwiches, although he realized part of the way through their creation that he wasn't sure if Draco liked sandwiches a particular way, but he figured that if he did something wrong, Draco would just tell him.

Typically, sandwich construction was a rather quick affair, but he was worried about making them look nice, and he kept getting distracted by thoughts of Draco showering, so it took him nearly forty minutes before he set the plates on his dining room table, finally satisfied with the results. That was when he realized that Draco took very long showers.

He wasn't sure that this bothered him. In fact, the idea of Draco in a shower for any length of time seemed pretty great to him. Just as he was trying to decide how he would feel about Draco in a bath, the man in question entered the room, Harry's clothes looking a bit large on his emaciated form.

"I look skinny in these." Draco spoke in a bemused tone.

"You _are_ skinny." Harry replied.

"They smell like you." Draco told him, joining Harry at the table. "I like them." Harry didn't know how to answer to that, so he concentrated on eating.

"I didn't know how you liked your sandwich." Harry spoke after a few bites. Draco was clearly ravenous, but somehow managed to look proper and prim with a third of the sandwich crammed in his mouth. When he finished his bite he smiled at Harry.

"I usually ask for no mayonnaise, but I'll let you get away with it this one time." He finally spoke.

"If you're still hungry…" Harry began as Draco polished off the meal.

"No. Can we go shopping?" Draco's question caught Harry by surprise. "I mean, it's nice that I can borrow these, but I'd really like some of my own clothes. And you need _far_ more hair care products in there if you want to see my hair restored to its former glory. I mean, you don't even have conditioner."

"I'm…well, okay." Harry wasn't sure there was a point in arguing. So they went shopping in the muggle area of London to try and avoid press, which was boring, except for the fact that Draco had a knack for finding moments to kiss or touch Harry when no one could see them.

When they returned home, Harry could barely wait to get inside the door to begin kissing Draco, pinning him against the entryway as he paid tribute to the slender column of Draco's neck, only pausing to nearly rip Draco's shirt off. Draco seemed to be on board with this course of action, and he quickly began a campaign to get Harry's shirt unbuttoned , which was rather difficult when Harry kept finding interesting new areas of skin to investigate.

Harry knelt after Draco had only succeeded in liberating four of the buttons, and held Draco's hips while enjoying the softness of the skin on his stomach against his face, breathing harshly as he tested the flavor of this skin against that on his neck, his collarbone, his shoulders, and his chest. Unable to stop himself, Harry found his fingers struggling with the fly of the jeans he had loaned to Draco, panting against his navel while Draco made some rather interesting noises of encouragement.

That was when the doorbell rand.

Draco yelped and looked around for his shirt while hurriedly refastening his pants. Harry fixed his own shirt and ran a hand through his hair, which Draco thought was rich, since honestly, it was a mess no matter whether he'd just been snogging someone or not. When they both looked presentable, Harry answered the door.

It was Hermione.

"Hello!" she entered rather cheerfully, hugging and kissing each boy in a friendly manner. "I hope I haven't come at a bad time."

"Not at all." Harry managed while Draco did his very best not to glare at the woman who had just interrupted a very good snog.

"I brought a few things…" this was clearly an understatement. Hermione had such a prodigious collection of bags and parcels that it was a wonder she could carry it all. "I figured you would want to avoid Diagon Alley for a few weeks, but I don't want you to do without…I got three sets of robes…Pansy helped me with that, she wanted to come herself, but I wasn't sure if it would be awkward." Hermione pulled out the contents of one bag. "But she said if they need any adjustments, she'd be happy to do them here if you're wanting to stay in for now." She shrugged as Draco felt the fabric and gave a soft smile of approval. "And she said I should bring this. She said it was your favorite—"

"Yes, oh yes!" Draco nearly ripped the bottle out of Hermione's hand.

"What is that?" Harry frowned as Draco lovingly stroked the bottle and held it close.

"It's the secret to perfect hair." He told them both. "It's been so long. Thank you."

"And…um," Hermione had clearly not expected such excitement. "There's some other stuff here…she said it was what you had at school, and that you were very particular." She handed him a bag of various hair and skin treatments and Draco sorted through it with no small amount of glee.

"Oh, dear Pansy," Draco sighed softly, "she knows me so well."

"And she told me you could never resist the éclairs from this bakery, and we both think you could do with putting on a bit of weight, so I…" Hermione opened one box, displaying a dozen pastries, and then gestured to another box that clearly contained the same thing. Draco immediately snatched one and managed to get it down in two bites with absolutely no mess. "I just…I'm really happy for both of you, but I wanted you to know, Draco, that if you need anything, or if you want someone to talk to, while I'm sure Harry will do anything he can, I want you to know that I…well, I consider you a friend, and I want you to know that I'll be there, if you need me."

"Thanks," Draco reached over and grabbed her hand, "I'll never say no to éclairs." She giggled, and he offered her one of the pastries she had brought, which she readily accepted. "Isn't it odd, though? The two of us being friends, I mean. I have to say, if I were in your place, I wouldn't ever want to be friends with me. I was horrible to you."

"That was years ago." She shrugged, flushing slightly, "Besides, I was no sweetheart to you."

"That's right…I recall you had a rather impressive right hook." Draco rubbed his chin ruefully.

"I thought she only slapped you." Harry recalled the incident.

"Let him have his dignity, Harry." Hermione finished off her éclair neatly.

"It's a good thing you brought me presents." Draco stretched out one leg luxuriously, leaning back in his seat. "I was getting quite a snog, and there you come, before things can get _really_ interesting." Hermione giggled wickedly and Harry flushed deep red, only prompting her to laugh harder than before.

Harry excused himself and hid in the kitchen while Draco and Hermione chatted and laughed. After a long time, he decided he might as well start dinner, and maybe that way he wouldn't have to be embarrassed any more that evening. He was boiling some noodles to go with a sauce he had prepared when he noticed it was rather silent in the other room. Before he could investigate this further, Draco entered the kitchen looking rather content.

"Where's Hermione?" Harry asked as he let the other man wrap his arms around him, resting his thumbs on the hem of Harry's trousers.

"She went home." He answered, kissing the back of Harry's neck, his fingers wandering to unfasten the first button they found, letting one hand investigate Harry's stomach.

"I'm trying to cook." Harry advised him.

"I'm trying to distract you." Draco told him, nuzzling Harry's ear.

"So you'll have more lurid stories to tell Hermione?" Harry asked, feeling only vaguely aggrieved.

"I only said we were having a snog." Draco protested, working diligently to completely untuck Harry's shirt. "Just thought I'd give her something nice to think about when she's with Weasley."

"Draco," Harry sighed as the other man triumphantly removed his shirt and tossed it aside. "I don't think it's hygienic to cook half-naked."

"Then come away from there." Draco tugged at Harry's waist with no success. "Let's go back to the front room. We were having a good time out there."

"Dinner will burn if I just ignore it." Harry was still making an attempt to resist.

"If you ignore _me_, I'll hex dinner _and_ you." Draco insisted.

"Like you could hex me." Harry teased, chuckling slightly as he attempted to ignore the fact that his trousers were being unfastened by deft fingers. "And you'll be hungry later, and then you'll be upset because I'll have to start dinner all over again, since you ruined this one."

"Well, then turn off the stove, you git." Draco looped his thumbs over the hem of Harry's pants and began pushing them down over his hips. "Finally, I'll be able to learn the answer to the question on every witch's mind."

"What's that?" Harry grabbed hold of his pants in an attempt to keep them on.

"Does Harry Potter prefer boxers or briefs?" Draco answered, yanking futilely at the pants that Harry was struggling to keep up. "Come on, then, inquiring minds want to know."

"Stop that!" Harry tried to twist away, but it was rather difficult, since Draco had him pinned to the stove. "Not in the _kitchen_!"

"What, like someone's going to see us?" Draco raised a pale brow. "Unless Bill Weasley really _is_ living with you."

"No, but—"

"Then live a little!" Draco tried a new tactic, moving one hand and sliding it down Harry's open pants. "Ah, so it's boxers."

"Would you…" Harry was flustered and embarrassed, but he couldn't stop himself from reacting to Draco's fumbling touches, and that only aggravated him more. He wasn't sure if he was still annoyed at Draco for talking about their private moments with Hermione, or if it bothered him that the other man had ignored his hesitation and refusal and seemed determined to have a snog, whether Harry wanted to or not. In any case, he could feel himself getting angry, and he couldn't stop it. "Just _stop!_" he lashed out, and just as Draco twisted his head to try and get a better view of Harry's bare chest, his elbow flailed against the other man's temple.

"Everything froze. There was a long moment of silence as Harry felt his anger swiftly evaporate, to be replaced with regret.

"Fine." Draco's voice was ice, and his expression was completely unreadable as he retracted his hands and left the kitchen before Harry could think of what to say or do. For what felt like an eternity, Harry stood at the stove, his head swiveled so that he was facing Draco's exit, his elbow midair, his other hand clutching his trousers. He was certain that he had very little romantic savvy, as Draco had once observed. He was just as certain that he'd really messed up. Part of him was sure it was Hermione's fault, since everything had been great until she came over. The rest of him knew that was stupid, and that _he_ was the one to blame here.

He refastened his pants with fumbling fingers, grabbed his shirt, and went upstairs to apologize. The living room was empty, so he felt sure that Draco would be in his room. When there was no one there, Harry felt a bit at a loss. At first he worried that Draco was gone, but Harry doubted he would have left all his things behind. Sighing, he realized he'd have to search all the rooms one at a time.

He found Draco in the very next room he checked. His own. The blonde man was in Harry's bed, curled up and clutching a pillow, his back to the doorway where Harry stood.

"Get out." He spoke as soon as the door opened, and Harry almost left before he realized that this was, after _his_ house, and his room as well.

"It's my room." He answered, feeling foolish and wishing he could have started this better.

"I'll leave, then." Draco flung the covers back and threw the pillow at the wall. He attempted to storm out, but Harry blocked the door.

"Don't. I'm sorry," he hoped he was doing this right. "I didn't mean to hit you, I just…"

"Forget it." Draco cut him off.

"Does…does it hurt?" Harry reached forward hesitantly, and Draco swept his hand aside.

"I'm fine!" he snapped. "You don't have to coddle me. You said stop, I didn't stop, I got what I deserved, right?"

"But…I…it got out of hand," Harry tried again. "I'm not mad at you, and I don't want you to be mad at me."

"I guess I was expecting things between us to be a certain way when I moved in, and I was wrong." Draco told him in a calm tone that Harry recognized as his I'm-Not-Going-To-Tell-You-How-I-Really-Feel Voice. "I'll just go back to _my_ room now, if that's all right with you."

"Draco, please," Harry felt desperate. "I'm not going to pretend I know the right words to say, but please, I love you, and I'm _sorry_, okay?" Draco was silent, but he wasn't attempting to leave, which Harry took as a signal to continue. "If you want to be in here, or sleep in here, you can. I just didn't know if you'd want your own space…and, and if you want, I'll take my pants off. Or you can. In _any_ room. Okay? Because I'm sorry. And…"

"No, please," Draco's face twisted oddly before he just burst out laughing and nearly keeled over, "Stop apologizing!"

Harry wasn't sure that laughter was the desired reaction to an apology, but at least Draco was smiling, so that had to be a good sign. "I _am_ sorry." He repeated for good measure.

"It's okay," Draco finally stopped laughing. "I was pushing you and it wasn't fair."

"You just wanted to be with me." Harry shrugged, blushing. "I was being stupid."

"But you're _always_ being stupid, and I don't usually get angry at you for it." Draco told him with a slight grin, and Harry felt so relieved that they weren't fighting that he enveloped the other man in a fierce embrace and kissed him deeply. Draco returned the kiss at once, and it wasn't long before they were pulling at each other's garments and stumbling onto the bed, where they began exploring each other's newly exposed flesh. Harry was fascinated by the contrast of Draco's pallor against his own skin. He'd never thought of himself as dark, but against the milky backdrop of Draco's stomach, his arm suddenly looked very brown.

He was rubbing Draco's bare hip and kissing imaginary trails over his neck and chest, which was great, and he could see that Draco _also_ felt it was great from the noises Draco was making while he continually ground his erection against Harry's and he felt like this was the time to broach a sensitive subject.

"Do…should we…well, you know…" Harry was struggling. "I don't really…well, I've never…"

"You've never had sex?" Draco breathed the question before continuing. "Neither have I."

"No, I mean…" Harry could tell from the heat in his cheeks that he was blushing very deeply, which struck him as odd, since it wasn't really the moment to be shy. "I have, just never with another guy, and I don't really know…how, well, I know _basically_, but I've never…I mean, not that way."

"You've had sex?" Draco's hips stilled, and Harry felt this was a shame, as it had felt rather nice. "With who? When?"

"Is it so hard to believe someone would sleep with me?" Harry asked wryly.

"Well…but that's not fair!" Draco pouted. "I can't believe you've had more sex than me!"

"Barely. I only did it once, and it was with a girl, so it's not much help here." Harry admitted.

"Who?" Draco looked aghast. "Was it…Ginny Weasley?"

"No…no, I never had a chance to…" Harry regretted having spoken; they'd been having such a good time. "Well, because we only dated for a little while, and after that she was killed."

"Who, then?" Draco insisted.

"Why does this matter so much?" Harry wanted to know, but Draco's expression made it clear that he wouldn't be able to sidestep the question. "Cho Chang, okay? It was just after Ginny died, and I was a mess, and I wasn't…"

"Ew!" Draco's face twisted in grimace. "I can't _believe_ you slept with that…that hussy!"

"It wasn't my finest hour, all right?" Harry huffed. "No one knows, either, so _don't_ tell Hermione. She'll give me hell, and I don't think I should be punished for something that happened over two years ago. Plus, after that…well, Cho thought we were going to date…it was awkward."

"I _still_ can't believe you slept with her." Draco rolled over and grabbed his underwear, starting to get dressed.

"Are…are we…are we done?" Harry was momentarily confused.

"You think I can keep it up while picturing Cho Chang naked?" Draco snorted. "Yeah right. Go make dinner, I'm hungry."

"Oh." Harry pouted a moment before getting up. "Okay, then."

He only remembered he'd left the stove on when he got downstairs, and he ended up having to scrape up what had been burned starting over again. He blamed Cho.

To be Continued…


	23. Chapter 23

Shades of Truth

Chapter 23

"Harry!" Hermione's voice startled Harry so badly that he dropped the toast he'd just made. Turning, he noticed her head was in his fireplace. "You idiot! Don't you know how to be discreet at _all_?!"

"Er…morning," he answered. "What's going on?"

"Haven't you seen the Daily Prophet yet? Ron certainly has, and I only _just_ convinced him not to come over there and hex Draco and you silly." Hermione scolded him.

"Oh…not yet." Harry reached across the table and opened up the paper. It didn't take him long to see what Hermione was ranting about. Plastered on the front page was a picture of Draco and him holding hands as Draco placed a kiss on Harry's cheek. In large letters the headline read, "Auror Seduced by Notorious Dark Wizard."

"I can't believe you'd do this!" Hermione continued, "I thought you were going to lie low until Ron knew. And what about Narcissa? Does she know? Well, I mean, _did_ she know before this?"

"How did…we were in muggle London! We were being careful!" Harry was rather upset, but Hermione was clearly not worried about his feelings at the moment.

"Yeah, I can tell." She snorted. "Being in muggle London doesn't mean a wizard won't spot you, idiot. I have to go to work now, but I just wanted to warn you, Ron's furious."

"Well…what should I do?" Harry wanted to know. Hermione laughed humorlessly before answering him.

"I already _told_ you what to do! Tell Ron before he has to read about it." Hermione reminded him. "Clearly, you had no care for _that_ advice. Now…I'd say a sincere apology and practicing your Shield Charm are you best bets. Also, you aren't allowed in my flat until this is taken care of. I don't want any more of my things broken."

"Thanks." Harry sighed heavily.

"No problem." And she was gone.

Harry took the paper upstairs to show Draco, but he wasn't sure how much the other man understood, as he was still mostly asleep, and after Harry showed him the picture, he grumbled some incoherent complaint about salt in his waffles and promptly went back to sleep. He had plans to actually go to work that day, but now he wasn't so sure he wanted to be out where he could easily be attacked by any number of witches and wizards opposed to his current living arrangements. He thought maybe he should wait a couple of days for things to calm down, and in the mean time, he could climb back in bed with Draco, who looked very warm and comfortable and generally inviting.

However, he was hoping it wouldn't be that bad, and people would ask questions if he never went to work. So he went downstairs and opened the front door, where he was nearly hit by a hex from a clearly angry Narcissa Malfoy. Pulling out his wand, he disarmed her with no real damage done, and asked if she'd like some breakfast or some tea, as Draco was still asleep. She slapped him.

"You! I can't _believe_ you!" she stormed into the house as though it were hers. "Keeping my son away from me and doing…doing _awful_ things to him in your dirty den of sin! How _could_ you! He's…he's a good, pure boy, and you…you!"

"Mrs. Malfoy, please," Harry decided that, indeed, there was no way he was going to work. Not if there were people waiting at his door to hex him. "I'm not doing anything _awful_ to your son. We _are_ involved romantically, yes, but it's an entirely consensual relationship. And this is not a den of sin."

"You took him away, and you've completely corrupted him. Malfoys are _never_ gay!" she shrieked at him shrilly. "And even if they _were_, they would still marry a nice pureblood witch and have some pureblood grandchildren for me, because that is their _duty!_ Do you want to _end_ an ancient family? If Draco has no children, he will be the _last_ Malfoy! Is that what you want?!"

"What's going on?" Harry felt the blood drain from his face as he looked up at the sound of Draco's voice and saw the other man standing in his underwear on the stairwell, his hair artfully mussed. "Mother?" he seemed not in the least perturbed by her sudden invasion.

"Draco Phineas Malfoy! You get dressed and get down here at _once_!" Narcissa snapped at her son as though she honestly expected him to obey. "I'm here to save you from this…this cesspool of depravity and corruption!"

"Um…" Draco looked at his mother, noted his own state of undress, looked at Harry, yawned majestically and stretched his arms over his head. "Harry, I'm going back to bed. Get rid of her and then come corrupt me."

Harry was too terrified to laugh. Draco actually blew him a kiss and then turned around and went back to bed. Narcissa's face was scarlet as she turned on Harry.

"You _fiend!_" she shrieked, "I'll be going to the Minister _himself_ with this! I'll tell him what you've done to my sweet, innocent boy!" and she stormed out. Harry was glad to see her gone, but he wished Draco had been slightly more helpful about diffusing the situation. Sighing heavily, he trudged upstairs and took off his robes before climbing back into bed.

"Your feet!" Draco yelped as soon as he got close to the other man, "They're frozen, get them on your side and keep them there."

"Don't hassle me, I've had a rough morning." Harry grumbled, snaking his arms around the other man and pulling him close. "I'm not going to work."

"I'd noticed that." Draco turned to face Harry, stroking the side of his face with one hand. Harry leaned in and kissed him lightly. "I should leak pictures of us to the Prophet every day if it means you'll spend the day in bed with me."

"You _would_ do that." Harry chuckled. "Your mother is pretty upset, you know."

"I'd noticed that as well." Draco let a wicked grin spread across his face. "But at least now she knows about us, and I didn't even have to tell her myself."

"Aren't you worried she'll disown you?" Harry wanted to know.

"She might not." Draco shrugged. "And anyway, I knew what I was getting into when you first kissed me, and I _want_ this. I want it more than I want some inheritance. And who would she give it to other than me, anyway? One of her many illegitimate children with Snape?" Both of them laughed then, and Harry felt ridiculously happy for someone in his position, and he had to agree that this was worth the risk to him, as well.

----------

Harry felt rather nervous and unprepared as soon as he spotted Ron moving toward him in the Three Broomsticks. It had been a week and a half since the story in the Prophet, and Harry had sent exactly four owls in that time to his best friend. To the first and second he received no reply, but to the third, he had been sent back the terse message "Bugger off, you dirty git," which hadn't exactly surprised him. Oddly, the fourth owl, a request that they meet for drinks so Harry could explain properly, had been accepted politely with no further name calling. Harry had deep suspicions that Hermione had intercepted that one, but he wasn't going to complain about her assistance.

"Thanks for coming." Harry smiled for a brief moment, but his hesitant warmth melted away at the scowl on Ron's face as he sat down in an extremely huffy manner.

"Just say whatever you want to so I can go home." Ron grumbled, "Hermione's _making_ me talk to you."

Harry suppressed a smile at Ron's pouting before plowing on with his attempt at a friendly meeting. "Did you want an ale? I'm paying."

"No." Ron crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm not thirsty."

"Honestly, Ron, does it have to be like this?" Harry sighed deeply as his friend refused to meet his gaze. "I _should_ have told you, and I'm sorry about you finding out like this. I know it must seem like I'm keeping all kinds of secrets from you, but I thought it would be easier to kind of ease you into the idea of trusting Draco as a friend of mine before I broke it to you that I'm in love with a bloke that used to be our enemy. And if it makes you feel any better, Narcissa Malfoy already reamed me out and waited on my doorstep to hex me. I haven't heard what Draco's friends think, but I'm sure Pansy at least won't be pleased at all to hear that I've stolen Draco from her. His mother might disown him, and so far, the only person supporting us is Hermione. I don't want to lose my best friend over this, but I don't think it would be fair to ask me to stop seeing him, either. I mean, I understand that it's probably weird enough for you that I'm with another guy, and the fact that it's Draco…I'm sure that must seem…"

"Like a betrayal?" Ron glared at something just beyond Harry's left ear. "Honestly, are there any _other_ secrets you're keeping from me? Maybe Hermione and you are planning to elope? Or maybe Draco was going to come move in with _me_ now, and you just wanted to _ease_ me into it, you know, natural progression there. First, Draco's not a vicious serial killer, then you're friends with him, then Hermione is as well, and she expects _me_ to like the dirty bastard as well, then you're sleeping with him, and then he's making breakfast in bed for all of us and having sleepovers at my place. Well, I'm sorry if you don't like it, or want me to just forget every nasty prank he ever played on us and every horrible name he ever called Hermione, but I _can't_, and I won't. I can't really understand how you guys can even _want_ to be friends with him, and when I found out you and him…I just…I'm trying, Harry, I really am. I'm sure you think I haven't tried to see this from your side, but I just…Malfoy? It's like you're _trying_ to make me angry."

"It's so easy for you, you're engaged to bloody Hermione. Could you have picked a safer choice? Even _Percy_ gets along with her, and he hates everyone." Harry fumed. "It may seem like I'm aggravating you on purpose, but it isn't something I chose, any more than you did. I wanted to help Draco because whatever he did in school, he didn't deserve to be punished for crimes he never committed, so when I found out that he had his memory modified and was innocent in at least one or two of the cases, I knew I had to check out _all_ of them. Hermione thought I was out to bury him under more convictions, and at first, she wouldn't leave me alone, she kept accusing me of being petty, but I didn't tell her what was really going on until I realized that I'd need her help with the investigation, and she was annoyed with me for keeping everything secret. But I knew that you'd be angry, because of who it was, and…well, everyone thought he'd killed Fred and Ginny, and all those others as well. I wanted to be _sure_, and I didn't want to risk getting you angry over nothing if he really _did_ commit some—"

"But he _did!_ He killed his own father!" Ron slammed his hand down on the table with a loud crack. "That's the thing that doesn't make any _sense_ to me! Draco Malfoy killed his own father, and just because you vouch for him, everyone assumes that's all he ever did, and that it's totally excusable! What if I'd killed _my_ father?"

"_Your_ father wasn't Voldemort's right-hand man!" Harry shot back. "It's completely different! We _all_ had to kill during the war. If that means Draco deserves to be in Azkaban, so do I. So does Hermione, and so do you."

"None of _us_ killed our parents!" Ron was adamant. "How can you feel safe, sleeping next to someone who would betray his own father? No matter what an evil bastard Lucius was, that doesn't make it okay for a son to kill his own father! How can you _trust_ him?"

"Because I know Draco, and I know what Lucius had to do to make him turn to that, and I _saw_ it happen. I'm not saying what he did was a good thing, but I don't think killing is _ever_ a good thing, even if it's Voldemort. If there had been another way…But I also saw the _look_ on Draco's face when we watched him kill his father in Narcissa's memory. He was devastated. I'd told him that those memories were false, and when he found out that he really had killed his own father…you think he's a twisted, evil bastard who only thinks of himself, but the Draco you imagine could never feel so guilty about doing something like that." Harry took a deep breath then, composing himself. "I'm not asking you to condone what he did, or what I did to you. I just…I don't want to end our friendship over this."

"Would you?" Ron's response was very quiet, his tone solemn. Harry sighed heavily, examining his hands, and when he looked up, Ron was finally meeting his gaze. His cheeks were pale, his lips pursed, and his eyes burned with a determined intensity. Harry realized then that Ron was just as scared as he was, and when he knew that they wanted the same thing, he felt soothed somehow, and he couldn't stop the small smile that reached his lips.

"Do you remember when Ginny died?" he wasn't sure why he'd said it until he heard the words, amazed by how calm he sounded even as he spoke. "I blamed myself. I know that you felt like you should have protected her, too. But I led the counterstrike. I had sworn to keep her safe. And even though you knew that it wasn't really my fault or yours, you couldn't help blaming me, at first. Without Hermione to make us admit what we already knew, we might have ended that day. But we got through it, didn't we?" There was a long silence from Ron before he slowly nodded. "If I stay with him, will you leave me just to spite Draco?"

"I don't…" Ron trailed off, struggling to find the words he needed. "Do you…do you really…does it _have_ to be Malfoy? Because I don't _care_ if you fancy blokes, as long as you don't suddenly take a fancy to me. But…there's hundreds to choose from. Why does it have to be _him?_"

"I love him." Harry didn't hesitate to answer, and Ron leaned back heavily, as though defeated.

"Makes me ill, to think of him with you, you know." Ron signaled Rosmerta over. "Two ales, please." And then he turned a long-suffering grin to Harry. "But I guess I'll have to learn to get used to it."

"Thanks, mate." Harry smiled broadly, feeling relief seep through him. "It means a lot."

"Yeah, well, when he hexes you in your sleep, don't say I didn't warn you." Ron shrugged as they accepted their drinks.

To be Continued…


	24. Chapter 24

Shades of Truth

Chapter 24

"You look happy," Draco sounded a bit surprised when Harry came home, kissing him warmly. "Things went well?"

"Yeah, I mean, he isn't excited about it, but I think he understands how I feel." Harry explained, scrubbing a hand through his hair and walking over to the couch to sit down with a great yawn. "I'm just glad he didn't punch me as soon as he saw me."

"And here I was, sure I'd have to persuade you not to leave me for his sake." Draco draped himself over the weary man, a smile teasing at the corners of his mouth.

"As if I was going to." Harry wrapped his arm around Draco's shoulders and dropped a kiss on his forehead.

"I had an argument prepared." Draco nuzzled his face against the side of Harry's neck, giving the sensitive skin a series of small biting kisses. "Shame not to share it with you…"

"What…what kind of argument?" Harry could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks as Draco's hand slithered under his robes and along his side, pausing as it reached the edge of his belt.

"I just thought…" Draco paused mid-sentence to suck at the side of Harry's neck hungrily. "If I showed you what _I_ can give you that you couldn't get from Weasley, maybe you'd decide to keep me around."

"Oh?" Harry attempted to sound casually intrigued, but that was rather difficult when his voice refused to keep steady. Draco had moved his fingers to the belt buckle, and he was slowly unfastening it.

"Yeah," Draco tossed the belt across the room before unfastening Harry's trousers slowly with one hand, pulling himself more fully into Harry's lap with the other. "Want to see?"

"Um…" Harry wasn't sure what to say, he was afraid if he said the wrong thing, Draco would stop whatever he was doing, and that was the last thing Harry wanted. Draco was kissing him fervently, which gave him a good excuse to just not say anything. His fingers itched to touch Draco's skin, and he reached under the hem of Draco's shirt, letting his hands travel over his sides and up his back, noting each ridge flesh stretched taut over ribs, the small bumps of his backbone, as well as the heat and texture of the skin. Draco had finally unzipped Harry and had given up on edging down his pants for the moment in favor of opening his outer robes and getting Harry's shirt pulled over his head.

"Think about it," Draco tossed aside Harry's shirt and let his fingers trail slowly over his chest. "Without me, you wouldn't have anyone to come home to, who keeps your bathroom stocked with all kinds of toiletries, so that even the most demanding guest would be happy."

"Eh, well…I think you _would_ be the most demanding." Harry cut in.

"Which is how you know that your bathroom is ready for guests now." Draco soldiered onward, taking his own shirt off smoothly and letting his frame melt against Harry's. "Plus, I have a hot dinner waiting for you."

"You…you cooked?" Harry wasn't sure whether he was pleased or terrified.

"Well, you could _say_ I cooked, if it made you realize how invaluable I am." Draco offered.

"Well, you should know, Ron's actually a really good cook, so I don't think that counts extra for you. Although, of course, if you did, I really am glad that you went to all the work, though there's really no need to—"

"Well, in that case I'll tell you the truth. I had Pansy over and she said she'd help me make something." Draco admitted.

"So then you just watched while she did everything?" Harry asked.

"Exactly right." Draco smiled winningly. "I met up with her in Diagon Alley and I had her over. That's okay, isn't it?"

"What? Oh, sure, it's fine." Harry shook his head in confusion as he realized what Draco was asking. "You live here, too. I'm not your jailer. Have anyone over that you like." There was a pause as Harry thought over the possible adverse side effects of trusting a meal made for him by Pansy Parkinson. "So, did she seem…upset at all…about us?"

"It didn't seem that way." Draco shrugged. "I thought she'd be furious when I ran into her, but she was as happy to see me as when we were in school. It must be this beauty…no one can hold a grudge against me." He held a momentary pose, which would have looked more impressive if he wasn't currently shirtless in his boyfriend's lap. "Don't worry, I may not want to actually cook, but I wasn't great in potions without being able to spot someone tampering with a recipe. We'll both live to see tomorrow."

"So…was that your argument?" Harry asked as Draco hopped off his lap and started recovering clothing for both of them. "Why did you need to…"

"Oh, well, I thought it was a bit weak, so I figured if I distracted you with my hot body, you'd agree even if I said you needed me because blondes have more fun." Draco paused halfway through pulling his shirt back on. "Which, incidentally, is true, but it really does you no good, as it's _my_ hair."

----------

"But I just told him that looked very dashing, you know, made eyes," Hermione demonstrated with a rather hilarious flutter of her lashes, "and that was enough to get him to agree. Honestly, why he's so stubborn about buying new dress robes…"

"You know Ron hates buying things he thinks are unnecessary," Harry shrugged. The two of them were strolling down Diagon Alley toward Madam Malkin's. "He grew up without anything extra, and he has a hard time just spending money."

"So did _you_, and so far you're being _much_ more compliant about this." Hermione pointed out.

"Well, you weren't there when I complained about it to Draco and he completely ripped apart my sense of style. It was rough." Harry explained. "I've decided at this point that when it's something I don't care about, I should just go along with whatever he says."

"Choose your battles, huh? That's clever." Hermione giggled. "Is everything going well, then?"

"Well, we haven't quite been living together a month." Harry told her, "So I know we're still learning things about sharing a space and all that. There have been a few tiffs, you know, like he got upset that I gave him a separate bed at first, and then he blew up when I left his comb in the living room, and he makes me wear socks to bed if I got to sleep after him, and the other night, I got annoyed with him complaining about me having mayonnaise on _my_ sandwich because he said it makes him want to be sick when he has to kiss me and I taste like that. Like I'm forcing him." Harry chuckled slightly to show that he didn't find any of this to be serious. "But even with the occasional stupid fight, I really love living with him. I can't imagine what it would be like to sleep alone, and even with how much he complains, it's kind of like Snape, who doesn't usually mean anything by it, he's just not sure how to say nice things because he's out of practice. He's just…I love him, and I even love when he pouts, though I'm sure that sounds weird."

"You're talking to the woman who actually _wants_ to marry Ron Weasley." Hermione laughed quietly. "You don't have to tell me that sometimes, love makes us find odd things endearing."

"Yeah," Harry nodded, smiling slightly.

"So it sounds like everything's going well." Hermione looked rather pleased. "That's good to know."

"Well…" Harry hesitated. He wasn't sure he could comfortably discuss this with Hermione, but he figured that she was his best option. "There is _one_ thing. But…I don't know, I think it's kind of…kind of private."

"Oh," Hermione smiled wickedly. "_Those_ kinds of troubles."

"I just…well, neither one of us really...so we don't know…" Harry gave it up as far too embarrassing to proceed with and just shook his head.

"Yes, I can sympathize." Hermione laughed, and Harry knew she was trying to make him feel comfortable, but it was oddly emasculating talking to anyone about his physical relationship with Draco. "It's not like Ron or I had tons of experience before we got together. And to tell the truth, I was really worried that I'd be no good, and he'd leave me, and that would be that. Then I realized I was clearly worrying over nothing."

"Why would you think it was _nothing?_" Harry asked, his voice cracking in distress. "Like, what if…I don't know, what if it's horrible?"

"Well, if you're really in love, even if it _was_ horrible, you wouldn't stop loving each other because of _that_. And to tell you the truth, if neither of you have…done that before, it's probably not going to be great the first time. But I'm sure you guys have already…well…"

"Done other things?" Harry felt his face go crimson as Hermione nodded sharply. "Yeah, we have."

"So then you already know a bit, and you've gotten comfortable with that sort of thing. You have to just do it, you know? And even if it starts out awkward, it'll get better."

"But…I mean, how am I supposed to…" Harry couldn't even bring himself to ask anything detailed about the mechanics, and he honestly wondered if any advice Hermione had could be applied to his own situation.

"Just…just take it slowly," she squeezed his shoulder as they stopped just outside the robe shop. "And trust me, you'll figure out what needs to be done."

"Thanks." Harry smiled sheepishly at her before they entered the shop.

"Welcome to—oh, it's you." Pansy Parkinson went from beaming in welcome to scowling in disdain in the space of a moment, and she seemed to still be deciding whether or not her clear displeasure with Harry should also extend to Hermione when she approached them with arms crossed over her chest.

"Pansy, hello!" Hermione smiled brightly as though there was no trouble at all. "Harry's going to need a new set of dress robes for the wedding. Nothing too crazy, just a classic black, if you think that would suit him."

"Oh, yes, in May, right?" Pansy decided that her girlish enthusiasm for discussing matrimony outweighed her anger at being subjected to serving Harry. "Is your dress ready yet? You'll have to let me use my expert eye to inspect it."

"I'll be sure to bring it in." Hermione promised. "Do you think you can whip something up for Harry?"

"To tell you the truth, there's not a lot I can do with _this_." Pansy made such a face of disgust that Harry pursed his lips in irritation as she turned back to Hermione, still only speaking to her. "I'll do what I can to make him presentable. Just be sure you keep a close eye on your fiancé. Potter can't control himself, you know."

"Oh, Pansy," Hermione smiled thinly. "I'm not worried about that. Ron's not really his type, after all, if Draco's anything to go by."

"Look, Draco told me you two visited the other day." Harry cut in, exasperated. "I thought you were okay with everything."

"You purposefully deceived me!" Pansy huffed irritably. "You came to me, all nice and selfless, willing to do anything to help Draco and I be together again, or so I _thought!_ You let everyone _think_ you're this perfect person, the _Hero_ of the Wizarding World and all that rot, but you're just out to help yourself!"

"But…" Harry was very confused. "But Draco said you were fine!"

"You idiot!" Pansy shook her head furiously. "Of _course_ I'm not fine! Draco and I grew up together, and I've been ready to marry him since I knew _what _that was. He's my one true love, and you're buggering him silly! How can you expect me to be okay with that?"

"Oh, they haven't done that bit yet." Hermione assured the other girl, much to Harry's mortification.

"Hermione!" Harry yelped.

"I know, I know, Draco told me all about it. Virgins." Pansy rolled her eyes. "I just meant, you know, the spirit of the thing, not really the letter. Because after all, they will eventually, I'm sure."

"Understood." Hermione nodded sagely.

"Stop!" Harry shook his hands furiously as if he could ward off further discussion of his private relations.

"What? You haven't, and you'd have to know if you were talking to me about it, he was probably talking to one of his friends." Hermione shrugged. "Besides that, she has every right to be upset. Even _you_ knew how she felt, and you didn't bother to tell her that her reunion with Draco would be strictly platonic."

"But…but that's none of her _business!_" Harry sputtered. "What Draco and I do is between the two of us, and I'm not obligated to tell anyone else about it!"

"Harry, you're a public figure." Hermione told him patiently. "Your private life is always going to make the news. It hasn't bothered you before because you haven't had anything especially scandalous for the public to discuss, but it's the truth. It may not be Ron's business, either, but you didn't want him to find out by reading it in the Prophet. Imagine how Pansy felt."

"Well…okay, but it's not like Draco every promised her anything." Harry grumbled. "And I don't see why she's so mad at _me_. If anyone should have told her, it's Draco."

"I _am_ mad at Draco." Pansy cut in. "But it's a lot easier being mad at you. Plus, this way, if you muck it all up, which you _probably_ will, he'll come to _me_ for comfort."

"You are _such_ an opportunist." Harry accused her, but she didn't seem in the least perturbed by this.

"Hello? Slytherin." She placed a hand on her chest as though introducing herself.

"Are all of you going to be like this?" Harry sighed heavily. "Angry at me, nice to Draco?"

"I don't think so, but Blaise might be jealous." Pansy advised him. "He's had a thing for Draco since the fourth year. It's supposed to be a secret, so don't tell him I told you." She pointed fiercely at them both. "But I'm mostly annoyed that I didn't see this coming."

"What?" Harry stared at her blankly.

"Well, you guys have been completely obsessed with each other since you met." Pansy explained as she turned to look over her selection of fabrics, feeling each one for a moment before looking at the next. "Before he got in really deep with all that Death Eater business, everything he did or planned seemed to always be about you. And he was _always_ talking about you. Maybe not in a nice way, but there you go. And you couldn't just ignore him, either. Both of you just…got under each other's skin."

"That's true." Hermione agreed.

"By _that_ logic, Draco's also in love with you, and with Ron." Harry told Hermione, who laughed at his conclusion.

"Harry, we were a different way to get to you." Hermione told him after a moment. "And if you think about it, he had extra reasons to resent Ron and me. I've got muggle parents, and Ron's family's never gotten on well with the Malfoys. We were all on opposite sides, but he always focused on you. And how many times did you fixate on him? Remember sixth year? You spent more time trying to track down everything he did than you spent working on your special lessons with Dumbledore."

"Well, that wasn't…that was completely different." Harry shook his head in exasperation.

"Now you see why I'm angry." Pansy turned to Hermione, speaking almost as if Harry wasn't present. "Years of devotion, toppled by Denial Boy here and his cute rear."

"Yeah, it is pretty nice." Hermione agreed, and Harry resigned himself to an afternoon of silent humiliation.

----------

To be Continued…

As an added note, this chapter is an edit, for stringent anti-fun policies. I'll be reposting this whole story on with the original version of this, as well as certain other, later chapters. I'll use the same title, but as a warning, I probably won't do that until this evening.


	25. Chapter 25

Shades of Truth

Chapter 25

Harry blinked at the ceiling, thinking that he had reached a new level of pathetic as he found himself completely exhausted, yet totally incapable of falling asleep.

It was just that without Draco there, he felt distinctly out of place, and utterly anxious. And alone. He felt so alone it was as if something cold and cruel was squeezing his heart.

It was silly to worry. Just because Draco hadn't left a note didn't mean anything. He was a grown man, and he deserved to be trusted to do as he pleased without being expected to constantly explain himself. And while they were lovers, Draco had friends other than Harry. He was probably with them now, reminiscing about times gone by, maybe having drinks with Nott, or shopping with Pansy, or having a completely friendly and innocent dinner with Blaise. At his house. Alone. Possibly with lots of wine and inappropriate touching.

Harry groaned and pressed the heels of his hands against his closed eyes, trying to banish the sudden image his mind had conjured just then. He trusted Draco, of course. That didn't mean he trusted any of Draco's friends. Why should he? Pansy herself had made it perfectly clear that her prompt forgiveness of Draco was loaded with ulterior motives. And who could say Blaise wasn't playing a similar game?

He wished Draco would come home.

Harry was just weighing the pros and cons of getting out of bed to wait, since sleep was so clearly eluding him in any case, when he heard a door creak, and the muffled noises downstairs of someone trying to quietly make their way up. Draco was home at last.

He turned over in bed to face the door, watching in amusement as Draco, clearly believing Harry to be asleep, tried to stealthily navigate his way inside the room in the dark to avoid disturbing him. With a snap of his fingers, Harry lit the candle on his night table, effectively putting an end to the charade.

"Oh," Draco looked tired and vaguely surprised. "Did I wake you?"

"No," Harry sat up in bed, heedless of how his hair must look. "I couldn't sleep."

"Sorry to be so late." Draco gave him a sheepish smile as he sat down to take his shoes off. "I thought I'd be back before you were home from work."

"It's okay." Harry was so warmed by the seemingly casual apology, he felt himself blushing. How could he ever have worried?

"If it makes you feel better, I was pretty miserable all day." Draco assured him. "I visited my mother."

"You…are you okay?" Harry was almost amazed that Narcissa hadn't seized the chance to lock Draco up, to save him from Harry's supposedly wicked influence.

"Yeah, I just had to…make my feelings clear. Get my clothes back…you know." Draco shrugged, as though this was really no big deal. "She's not pleased, but she understands that I'm not a child. She'll come around eventually."

"You didn't have to go…I mean, I would have gone with you, if you'd asked." Harry told him.

"Sometimes, I have things I have to do on my own." Draco flopped down on the bed, not bothering to take off the rest of his clothes. "I have to ask you something, though. Could you see your way to performing a little memory charm on me?"

"What?" Harry had been in the midst of taking off Draco's robes for him, but he stopped with the job done halfway at these words. His face looked suddenly strained and alert all at the same time. "What did she _do_ to you? You know it's not safe for us to keep mucking about in your memories!"

"I saw something…something so horrible." Draco shuddered all over, and Harry felt panic overtake him. What had Narcissa done? Or was there something horrific still lurking in the depths of the Malfoy estate? Had she locked him in the dungeons with some monster? Or performed some horrible Dark Magic on him or something?

"Draco, what? What was it?" Harry was struggling not to overreact as his mind mulled over all the possibilities, each more alarming than the last. "Please, you have to tell me what she did to you!"

"Nothing…except, she forgot to lock the door." Draco's face had taken on a sickly pallor as he saw whatever it was that was troubling him again in his mind's eye. "Although, how would she know I would pick that day to come home…and there she was…with him…"

"Draco, what did you _see?_" Harry was on top of the other man now, clutching his shoulders as he tried to make him speak, but Draco's brow was furrowed as he looked away, the expression of horror still evident on his face as he recalled his earlier trauma. "Who was she with? What were they doing?"

"Snape…Snape was there and they were…they were…" Draco shook his head fiercely then before finishing the statement with some difficulty. "They were…naked…and he was…"

"Okay, okay, stop!" Harry felt relief and incredulity bubble up in him so powerfully he couldn't help letting out a bit of laughter. "You walked in on Snape and your mother shagging and you want me to wipe your memory?"

"Yes! It was the worst thing I ever saw!" Draco did not seem to find this funny at all, and he did not appreciate Harry's mirth. "Why are you laughing? This is horrible!"

"I'm sorry…I just thought it was something really bad." Harry wiped at a tear that was threatening to roll down his face as he calmed himself, and collapsed on top of Draco, burrowing his face in the starched shirt he was wearing. "That devil. He didn't tell me he was back in the country. I guess he just wanted some privacy with her and all that."

"What are you saying? This _is_ really bad! My mother and…and Snape!" Draco cried out indignantly. "How can you think it's _not_ bad?"

"Draco, you said yourself that your mother should start dating again." Harry shrugged, rolling slightly to one side so that he could look at the other man's profile more easily. "And now that she is, you're pitching a fit. Did you make a scene in front of her as well?"

"Well, as you _might_ recall, I told her to find a _hot young wizard_. Snape is a wizard, correct, but he is neither hot _nor_ young. How can she even _want_ to…with him!" Draco pulled a face so ridiculous Harry started laughing all over again.

"Makes you wonder how long they've been carrying on." Harry sighed after he had regained his calm. "Do you think she was having an affair with him while your father was still alive?"

"No!" Draco grimaced. "First of all, he would have found out and killed both of them. Second, horrible bastard that he was, he was _much_ prettier than Snape. Ugh, mother, how low the mighty have fallen."

"I thought you _liked_ Snape!" Harry exclaimed. "I always thought he was something of a father figure to you."

"Even if he was, that doesn't mean I want him doing…doing _that_ with my mother." Draco sat up and scrubbed his hands through his hair. Amazingly, it fell back into place almost immediately, something Harry knew his own hair would never do. "I thought you'd feel bad for me, and here you are, encouraging this…unnaturalness. Let's talk about something else."

"Alright," Harry tried to suppress a smile and almost succeeded. "So, Hermione is inviting you to the wedding, but she knows that Ron doesn't want her to, so she's doing it subversively."

"How's that?" Draco asked, letting Harry carefully undress him.

"She's just going to have every invitation be for such-and-such plus one, and it's obvious who I'd bring, so really, she's invited you without having to get in another fight with Ron." Harry explained.

"Won't her ruse be discovered if I suddenly show up at the event?" Draco wanted to know, his eyes watching as Harry took an inordinate amount of time edging his pants down to the floor.

"I told her she should just let him know right now you're coming, because she's won every fight they've had so far about the wedding." Harry replied. "No reason this should be any different."

"I don't _need_ to go, you know." Draco answered in a suddenly solemn tone. "If it'll just cause trouble."

"Draco, no," Harry was on the ground now, removing Draco's socks, and he dropped one foot to focus on his refusal of the other's suggestion. "I'm willing to accept that two of the most important people in my life are never really going to get along, but you're important to Hermione now as well, and she wants you there."

"It would be full of Weasleys." Draco looked distinctively uncomfortable. "I wasn't too popular with that family _before_ I was convicted of two of their murders."

"You can't go on acting as though you're a murderer, Draco." Harry raised himself on his knees so that he was nearly on level with the other man. "What was the point of everything we did if you're going to live as though you're an escaped convict?"

"But I _am_ a murderer!" Draco's voice caught slightly. "No one seems to recall this, but I'm not exactly innocent. If you hadn't spoken for me, I'd still be in Azkaban because I _killed my own father!_" as his voice rose, tears spilled down Draco's cheeks, and Harry reached out to touch his face, but his hand was slapped away. "You…you don't even seem worried that I could turn on you, just as easily! And Granger's so happy to have someone to talk to that she doesn't think about whether or not to trust me with her secrets! And Snape was my father's closest friend, but he turns his back on him…and my mother! I thought she _loved_ him, but that only makes me realize that I grew up without any sort of knowledge of what love meant, so how am I supposed to know what it is now?"

"Because it's right _here!_" Harry lunged forward, tackling Draco onto the bed, and holding the struggling man down. "You say you love me, and then you say you don't know what love is? What the hell are you trying to say to me?"

"I'm saying that you're an idiot, too worried about getting lucky to wonder if he's making a mistake!" Draco snapped back. "How can you trust me after everything we've been through? How could you _want_ to love me!?"

"It isn't about _wanting_, Draco!" Harry's face was full of his frustration. "I'd love you even if I _didn't _want to! It isn't as though I woke up one morning and said to myself, 'Now that my life is so simple, I think I'll bugger it up as much as possible by falling in love with Draco Malfoy!' Do you think that?" He released Draco and stood up, his body trembling with suppressed anger. "But if I _could_ choose, I would want you to be with me. We acted like idiots all through school, too full of our own pride to see that we couldn't leave each other alone for one reason. We complement each other perfectly, and you may be the best person to get me riled up, but you're also the only one who can make everything feel so unbelievably _right_ just by smiling at me. When we were kids, we wasted that on stupid fighting all the time, and if that's what you're comfortable with, then fine. But now that I've been with you, I know I can never be happy if you leave, and I think you feel the same way. If you don't, though, then maybe you don't love me. And maybe you should just leave." Harry's anger seeped out of him as he spoke, and by the end of his rant, he looked completely withered. He slumped toward the door and pulled it open before Draco snapped out of his shocked state, jumped off the bed, and kissed Harry so hard he tasted blood.

"I didn't…I didn't mean it." Draco scrubbed a hand over his face as he pulled back, and Harry saw that he was still crying slightly. Two fat tears spilled down his damp cheeks and Harry brushed them away with his own thumbs. "I love you. I know I do…just sometimes, I get so scared you'll realize…you'll look at me and see you could have so much better…"

"Nothing's better than this," Harry kissed Draco lightly on the lips. "I'm not ever leaving you."

"I'm sorry."

"I am, too." Harry wrapped his arms around Draco's shoulders and hugged him tightly. "I shouldn't have joked about your mother and Snape. It's really bothering you, isn't it?"

"I guess…it was like seeing him die all over again." Draco gave a weak laugh. "Which you'd think would be fine by me, of all people."

"It's been years, though," Harry reminded him gently. "And you told your mother yourself she should start seeing people again."

"I guess I didn't really think that one through." Draco admitted, letting himself be led back to the bed.

To be Continued…


	26. Chapter 26

Shades of Truth

Chapter 26

"And I have suspicions that he brought back an unregistered vampire." Harry was explaining the details of a current investigation he was working on to a group of six other Aurors who were paying him rapt attention. "At first I thought it was just oversight, you know, since he's not the most law-abiding subject I've ever tailed, but I'm pretty sure he's feeding it muggle delivery-people. I've seen at least one person bring pizza over, go in, and not come back out. And there's definitely something he's hiding, since he's got so many wards on his front door, and the windows are _never_ open."

"Sounds like your place." Harry was momentarily thrown off his train of thought by seeing Ron here in his office. "And your roommate _is_ pale."

"Ron," Harry could tell he was blushing despite his grand desire not to look foolish in front of his subordinates. "I'm giving a brief, if you could just wait outside a moment, I'll see you in a minute."

"Sorry, the door was open." Ron winked and waved at everyone, and a few of them waved back as he stepped out and closed the door.

"Er…anyway, what I meant…" Harry shook his head sharply to stop the stumbling. He didn't particularly enjoy lecturing people, and this was nearly the same thing. "So then, I thought it would be best to get some solid evidence before we do a raid, so we're going to stake the place out. I've assigned you all eight hour shifts, in pairs—" he was cut off by some grumbling and he turned a sharp eye on a young man who was muttering about the unfairness of it all. "And I _know_ it isn't fun, Kincaid, but that's why we call it _work_. Questions?"

After some more shuffling of papers and general bustle, the group left his office, and Harry sat down in his chair wearily just as Ron came in, a barely concealed grin on his face. "I never knew you could be such a stickler, Harry. If only McGonagall could see you putting all her lessons to use."

"Not all of us can be in the Office of Never Actually Working." Harry teased good-naturedly and Ron laughed and shrugged. "Anything going on? You usually don't come down here unless you're trying to get me to skive off work and go to a Quidditch match with you."

"I had to come see you to tell you the news." Ron pulled a roll of parchment out of his pocket. "I got this summons this morning…I thought you'd know something about it, because it seems like your department could have been involved. They've recovered Fred's remains. It's been a few years, so there isn't a lot to what they found, but I've just been to identify them with Percy. Bill's getting some time off, and we're hoping to get permission to get George out of St. Mungo's for a day…we're going to have a funeral. Another one, I know, but since we have his actual remains…"

"Wow…that's…no, I didn't have any idea. I mean, it may have been someone…but I didn't hear about us doing a raid on Malfoy manor…" Harry trailed off and Ron's body went rigid.

"What?" he tilted his head sharply.

"Well…when we were doing the investigation…Draco said that his father probably still had the remains buried on the grounds…down in the dungeons or something, but I wasn't sure we could get permission to dig since we didn't know they were there for sure…and Narcissa Malfoy…" Harry stumbled through his explanation, feeling rather sheepish for having not already told all of this to Ron, who would obviously deserve to know what had become of his brother.

"That's weird…" Ron looked very thoughtful for a moment, and then spoke again rather distractedly. "Anyway…thought you might like to come. It's nothing big, just family, you know. We're doing it next Wednesday at two, if you can get it off."

"Yeah, I'll be there for sure." Harry nodded sharply. He would have to talk with Draco when he got home, because unless he was much mistaken, he knew who had recovered the remains of Fred Weasley. What he didn't know was why Draco, who had spent his life going out of his way to antagonize Ron, would do something kind for his family without even telling anyone he had done it…

----------

When Harry got home, Draco, once more, was not there. This time, there was a note, but it did very little to stop him worrying. In fact, it had the opposite effect. It was rather short, and clearly the other man had been on his way out the door when he had thought to leave it.

­_Harry,_

_Gone out with Blaise, will be back tonight._

_Draco_

Harry did not like that note very much. It seemed rather unfeeling. Honestly, he could have at least written "Love, Draco" instead of just this…it was as if they were only roommates, nothing more, and he had just left a quick note before going out on a date.

Not that this was a date. Even if it was with Blaise. Harry wished there were less people carrying a torch for Draco. Or that at least none of them were good looking. He knew Draco wasn't cheating on him, but it wasn't as though Blaise was the sort to be above trying to seduce someone who was already in a relationship.

On the other hand, just because Pansy said that Blaise was after Draco didn't mean it was true. She could have just said that to make him worry. He knew for sure that she had no compunctions about causing him grief. But he decided it didn't help him to dwell on his concerns, so he kept himself busy. He tidied up around the house, which didn't take long as neither of them was very messy. Then he sat down and penned a letter to Snape to ask how he was and if he could visit sometime now that he was back in London and sent it off with Hedwig as soon as he'd finished. At this point, it was almost time for him to start dinner, so he took his time about it, telling himself that he was not making such a nice dinner just to remind Draco of how good things were living with Harry, but just because he was especially hungry.

But when it was finished and he realized Draco still wasn't home, he began to worry. When it started to get cold, he thought about eating his own dinner at least, but he found that he didn't have an appetite anymore. It was well past midnight when he went upstairs, feeling rather dejected, not bothering to clear the dinner up, and having completely forgotten about Fred Weasley.

He realized as he lay alone, staring up at the ceiling, that this was the second time this week that he'd found himself unable to sleep because Draco wasn't there. But this time he knew for sure where Draco was, and he was warring between his two current impulses. Half of him wanted to run out the door and chase Blaise down to make sure nothing was going on, and the other half of him wanted to make himself not care. He knew he shouldn't care, that Draco's note hadn't said what _time_ tonight he'd be back, and he was probably having fun right now, and what was wrong with that, after all? But there was a selfish piece of him that wanted Draco here with him that instant.

It was silly. Draco would never get upset that Harry spent time with Hermione or Ron, but then, neither of them had any romantic interest in Harry, so maybe it wasn't too strange that he was worried. Also, he had spent a long time making that dinner, and Draco was too busy boozing with Blaise, who was likely going to try and take advantage of him once he was good and liquored up, to care about _that_. He knew it was childish to feel resentful about the situation, but he couldn't help feeling frustrated, and the fact that he kept imagining what sort of things Draco and Blaise could be doing at that moment probably didn't help. He kept cutting in between a scenario where Blaise was having his way with a nearly unconscious Draco, and one where Draco and Blaise had been spending all day in bed together, and had been carrying on behind Harry's back since he was released from Azkaban.

After some time spent worrying and imagining things to be much worse than they likely were, Harry heard the door open and close and knew that Draco was finally home. As he heard the other man stumbling upstairs, Harry debated whether to even acknowledge Draco's absence had been noticed, or to feign sleep. Before he could decide what he might want to say, the other man fell into bed, still fully dressed, smelling of smoke and liquor.

"I made dinner." The words came out before Harry knew he was going to say them. "It's cold by now."

"Sorry." Draco chuckled slightly and nuzzled the back of Harry's neck. "Didn't mean to wake you." There was a pause, and his hands wandered clumsily under the covers. "Well, maybe I did. A little."

"Stop it." Harry shoved Draco's hands away. "I stayed up waiting for you, and I'd like to get at least a _little_ sleep before I go to work tomorrow."

"You didn't _have_ to wait up." Draco didn't seem too annoyed at Harry's rejection, and somehow, this only agitated him even more.

"I was worried." Harry told him sharply. "You could have left more of a note. I had no idea exactly where you were or when you'd be back. And I knew Blaise was with you…"

"What's wrong with Blaise?" Draco seemed vaguely upset now. "Am I not allowed to have friends unless they're on your pre-approved goody-goody comrades against evil list of buddies? You know, I'm not wild about Weasley, but I don't ask _you_ to ditch one of your oldest friends."

"That's completely different!" Harry snapped, sitting up in bed as Draco did the same. "I've been friends with Ron since the first day at Hogwarts!"

"Blaise and I knew each other when we were babies." Draco shot back.

"Ron's not someone who would hate everyone just for not being in his house!" Harry retorted. "All of your 'friends' are completely obsessed with Slytherin superiority, which is hilarious, since you can _see_ how it's helped them lead such excellent lives!"

"Yeah, well, if Blaise hated Gryffindors so much, why'd he shag Ginny Weasley all seventh year?" Draco was so furious at this point that he didn't think about the words until it was too late, and they fell into a sudden, deadly silence.

"He…what?" Harry sounded so shocked that Draco knew he'd had no idea about Ginny's torrid rebound relationship. _He'd_ known, and he hadn't even been at Hogwarts.

"Nothing." Draco realized that he had crossed a line, and he hadn't meant to.

"No, tell me." Harry was starting to worry Draco. Any second, he was sure, he'd go back to yelling. Draco wished he would. This was much worse. "Tell me. About Blaise and Ginny."

"I just heard…who knows what _actually_ happened." Draco shrugged, trying to make light of it with very little success. "You know how much gossip and rumor—"

"Tell me!" Harry pounded his fist into the mattress, and Draco jumped slightly in surprise.

"Well, I wasn't around, so I don't know for sure," Draco wished his mouth didn't feel so dry. "But Pansy says Blaise and Ginny had a not-so-secret…thing his last year at Hogwarts. He…didn't say anything about it, so I can't say—"

"I can't…I can't believe she…with _Blaise_?" Harry touched a candle absentmindedly, bringing light back into the room. He looked horribly pale and drawn. "Why…why would she _do_ that?"

"Well," Draco offered hesitantly, "you _did_ break up with her."

"So she'd be safe! Not because I didn't want…with a _Slytherin_!"

"Hello?" Draco waved a hand about ironically. "Guess who _you're_ sleeping with? Talk about unexpected results. And by the by, that was pretty prejudiced for someone who just cried out the injustice of Slytherin house pride. You can't have it both ways, you know. And you can't black list my friends because of what they did in school. It'd be pretty hypocritical, considering I was the only one who repeatedly tried to kill Dumbledore. Even if Blaise _did_ sleep with Ginny, that doesn't really hold a candle to all the nasty business I got up to. I was horrible to you and all your friends. Look at _this!_" Draco pulled up his robes on his left arm, showing Harry the one feature that the other man always avoided. "_Look_ at it! It's not going away just because you refuse to see it. That's not house pride, or some prank, or a love bite from your dead girlfriend. That's the Dark Mark. I was still in school when Voldemort put it there." He covered the fading mark up again. "Blaise doesn't have one, in case you were interested. Neither does Nott. Nor Pansy. They might as well, though, from the way they're treated by the whole rest of the wizarding worlds. We're all of us like pariahs. No one openly does anything, but you can feel it when you're surrounded by people who would be happy to see you drop dead where you stand. You won't be able to understand that, no matter how you try, but they will, because they live it as well. So don't tell me my friends are no good and then pretend you don't see _that_. I'm not as good as them, and you haven't binned _me_ yet."

"Stop it!" Harry burst out, clearly unable to take it anymore. "Just stop! You think you're so horrible because you antagonized me? Because some twisted _fuck_ bullied you into taking the Mark, and trying to kill Dumbledore? Because other wizards treat you like you're to blame for the war and for all the deaths? No one forced _me_ to antagonize _you_ in school! And no one forced me to kill all those people, no matter what side they were on! Do you think I like that people glorify every horrible thing I've ever done? I didn't _have_ to kill them!"

"They would have killed _you!_" Draco almost laughed at the ridiculousness of what Harry was saying. "And anyway, this isn't a competition! We've both done things we wish we could take back. I'm just trying to say that I love you, but that doesn't mean you can control everything I do. I'm not asking you to become best mates with Blaise, but I _will_ hang out with him, whether or not you like it."

"He wants to shag you!" Harry burst out desperately. "Pansy told me he's been after you since Hogwarts." There was a moment of silence before Draco collapsed onto the bed in a fit of hysterical laughter. "It's not funny!"

"Isn't it?" Draco sat up, wiping tears from his eyes. "You go on about what a good-for-nothing he is, but you think I'll leave _you_ for _him!_ What part of that _isn't_ funny?"

"Well…I didn't say you'd _leave_ me." Harry grumbled, quite put off that Draco found his concerns to be such a source of hilarity. "But he could try to take advantage of you."

"I don't think he'd want to do that." Draco shook his head.

"Why not?" Harry defended his opinion.

"He has his hands full as it is." Draco explained. "He's seeing those Patil twins behind each of their backs."

There was a drawn out silence as Harry attempted to process this. Then, very slowly, he spoke. "Parvati…_and_ Padma? At the same time? And…neither knows…the other…"

"That's right. He's done this sort of thing before, of course, but it usually ends in one of two ways." Draco elaborated. "One or both figure it out and he has to choose, but after about three weeks of dating only one person, he feels like there's no excitement, and that's the end of it."

"And the other way?" Harry asked.

"They both bin him." Draco shrugged. "And I _try_ to tell him, no one wants to be with someone who's shagging someone else on the sly, but he's just so used to it."

"So…when Ginny and him…" Harry trailed off.

"Look, I don't know for sure that even happened. And I already said, you'd broken up with her. Ginny Weasley was hot property in those days. I'm not big on girls, as you may have noticed, but she caught _your_ eye."

"Well," Harry sighed heavily, "I suppose you're right. I guess I thought she'd wait for me, or something. And you probably shouldn't say anything to Ron about it, by the way."

"How do you know he doesn't already know about it?" Draco asked as they settled back to bed.

"Blaise is alive."

"Fair point."

----------

To be continued…


	27. Chapter 27

Shades of Truth

Chapter 27

----------

"I wish you'd come with." Harry was only repeating himself on the off-chance that this time, Draco would change his mind.

"Too many Weasleys." Draco shook his head as he batted Harry's hands down and straightened the other man's tie. "Ugh, how are you so hopeless at putting a tie on, like you didn't have enough practice at school…you've tied it too long, you see?" he deftly untied the offending article and then corrected its placement as Harry fidgeted in annoyance. "See, _here_, this is where it should fall."

"It looks the same." Harry grumbled. "And I don't understand this whole thing. You went out of your way, probably spent hours searching those dungeons to find his body, returned it anonymously, and you don't want _any_ credit, _any_ recognition of all that? It doesn't seem…normal for you."

"Am I really so cold-hearted, you think I won't do anything if I don't see any gain in it for me?" Draco gave a small smile to show he was only teasing.

"It's just…you're not mean, per se, you just don't…usually…do good deeds, just because they're…there to be done." Harry ran a hand through already mussed hair. That sounds bad. What I mean, is that this is a very good thing you've done, and you didn't do it just to show me you're a good guy, because you didn't tell me you'd done it, I had to figure it out on my own. And…well, I thought it might be a peace offering of sorts with the Weasleys because you know I'm close with them, and you and I…well, I just thought you might be making a goodwill gesture to Ron, striking a truce, as it were, but you refuse to let him know you did this, so I'm stuck wondering…why?"

"Maybe I knew you'd see I'd done it right away, and I wanted you to think I was noble, not taking credit." Draco reached up, straightening Harry's hair carefully as he spoke. "Maybe I think Weasley will figure it out, and it _was _a peace offering. Maybe I've been around you too long and your irrepressible urge to do right is contagious. Or maybe…maybe I'll always feel like I've been let off lightly, and it seems the only person who agrees with me completely is Weasley. Maybe I saw something I could do…maybe not to erase all the bad things I've done, but maybe…counterbalance them a little. So then I could feel like I deserve this. Like I deserve you, just a little."

"Draco," Harry caught the hand as it fell from his hair. "Don't you get it? This isn't about who deserves what. I love you, no matter what happened in the past or what happens now."

"Yeah." Draco smiled sadly, "Keep telling me that, and maybe one day I'll believe it. There you are." He pushed Harry around so he could see himself in the mirror. Harry's jaw dropped.

"My hair!" he reached up gingerly, but Draco intercepted his hand. "It's not…it looks good!"

"To tell you the truth, your normal look of 'I-just-got-violently-snogged' hair is fetching in its own right, but I thought for a memorial service, it might be better if it didn't stick up in the back." Draco shrugged.

"How did you do that?" Harry was still in awe.

"Magic." Draco answered enigmatically before slapping his rear playfully. "Now go, and don't be late coming home. Pansy's showing me how to cook, and I expect moderate to heavy praise of my meal."

"Watch out for her." Harry warned. "She's just biding her time wanting to get in your trousers."

"Wrong again, Romace Master." Draco leaned forward then and caught Harry's mouth with his, silencing them both for a moment. "She's shagging Nott."

"Wh—what?" Harry asked weakly, but Draco only smiled and shooed him out the door.

----------

The memorial service was very bittersweet. Harry couldn't help but notice the Weasleys that were missing, as he did on every occasion when the surviving family members were all together. He looked at Bill's weary, scarred face, and recalled how happy he had been with Fleur, or how he used to joke with Charlie. If Molly were there, he would no-doubt nag him to cut his hair, but now the only person that seemed to care about it was Bill himself, if he cared about much of anything, anymore.

He saw the guilty pain in Percy's eyes, the way he pretended the bridge of his nose was sore to hide his tears as he saw his brother's remains, and he wondered if Percy thought things might have gone differently if he'd supported his family earlier in the war, or wishing he'd had a chance to properly reconcile with his parents before they died. Or maybe Percy was remembering the way he used to scold his twin brothers, and he regretted the thought that they might never believe he loved them, in his own way.

Ron held Hermione under his arm, and Harry recalled holding Ginny like that. He wondered how things might have turned out, had she lived. Would she have tied his tie for him that night, fussed with his hair, and promised to make him dinner? But then, she would have definitely come tonight to see her brother properly laid to rest. If he'd died at all. After all, Harry knew the twins had gone to Malfoy Manor that fateful day to avenge their sister's death. If Harry had only watched over her a little more carefully…

Suddenly, achingly, he did not miss Ginny or Fleur, Arthur or Molly, Charlie or Fred, anywhere near how he missed Draco, though he'd seen him only a couple hours ago. He had always thought of the Weasleys and Hermione as his family, and he'd never thought that he'd have the same level of comfort and familiarity with anyone else, since Sirius and Lupin had both died. But Draco, he realized, was his family now as well. Which was a bit odd, considering the age-old enmity between Malfoys and Weasleys, but it was also oddly comforting. For some reason, instead of the idea of Draco and him being a family scaring Harry, it made him feel happy and excited to see the other man again, as soon as possible.

Harry felt the slight, refreshing chill of rainwater against his cheeks, and he looked in the dull grey sky. It was as if the other Weasleys were watching the burial as well, and their own tears were trickling down from the skies. He tried to remember the last time his family had been together and been happy, and recalled an otherwise unremarkable summer night before Fleur had been killed. The wedding had only been a month away, and they had all been at the Burrow for dinner, even Percy, who had been silent most of the night, but just the fact that everyone could sense the eventuality of reconciliation, Harry recalled, had made Mrs. Weasley full of contagious good cheer.

He wondered if Molly or Arthur were still alive, would the Weasleys seem less of a sad shadow of what they had been? He remembered still how they had helped Bill after Fleur died, how they had been devastated over Ginny, and then Fred. But they had not lived long enough to mourn Charlie. He glanced at Hermione, dabbing her eyes, and saw with something akin to shock that she had one hand around Ron's waist, but the other was resting on George's neck, and that besides the grief he was showing for his brother, the lonesome twin seemed not to be upset at the contact. Maybe there was hope for George after all, now that he could see where Fred was at last, laid to rest once and for all.

And after all, Hermione would soon be the new Mrs. Weasley. Maybe things would never be the same, but they could start to get better for all of them. As the last of the dirt was laid down, Hermione tossed a bouquet of bright daisies on top of the grave, and Percy smiled at her weakly, but sincerely.

"Thank you," he told her, sounding as solemn as ever when he spoke.

"They're only daisies," she blushed slightly and shrugged, "but they seemed appropriate for Fred. They're so bright and cheery…" she trailed off with a sniffle.

"It was a good choice." Bill told her, leaning over to hug her warmly. Hermione came out of it flushing deep red and looking less self-assured than Harry had seen her since school. "Mum loved daisies."

"Probably as they were all we could afford." Ron joked weakly, suddenly a bit more protective of Hermione.

"I miss them." George's voice was raw, and it sounded as though he'd been crying for days. "All of them…so much." It sounded anguished, but sane.

"We all do," Bill turned to him, and without hesitation, as though he recalled nothing of George's violent objections to any human contact since Fred's death, engulfed his younger brother in his arms, tears spilling down his ragged cheeks. The smaller man shuddered heavily, as though shaking something horrible from deep within him until it fell away completely, and he wrapped his own arms around Bill, sobbing silently.

There was a long, shocked silence, and then Hermione leapt at them with an odd sound somewhere between a sob and a yelp of joy, and before Harry knew it, all of them were embracing George, wondering over his sudden clarity, and laughing with tears and rain running down their faces. Even Percy joined them, somehow looking reserved even as he giggled quietly in his brother's shoulder before regaining a bit of his composure. And it was wonderful, and even though he wished Ginny and Fred and Charlie and Molly and Arthur were there as well, Harry wished more than anything that Draco were there, and that his family was welcoming him as one of them.

----------

Dinner with Pansy was extremely different from his time with the Weasleys. Harry had been eager to spend time with Draco, and he couldn't help feeling a bit wrong-footed when he discovered Pansy was staying to eat. He wished Draco, who was comfortable with both of them, would help break the tension, but he seemed to find Harry's discomfort funny for some reason.

"So, then," Harry had been struggling for something to strike Pansy's talkative nature up, but so far, he was floundering. "Draco told me that Nott and you are dating now."

"Oh, no." Pansy tossed her hair and turned her attention to a dinner roll. "It's just meaningless sex. I told him from the start, I've just had my heart broken, so I'm not looking for a long-term relationship, just someone who's a good rebound. You know, no fun to spend time with, but a demon in bed. Turns out he's a fantastic lay. I think it's good for him to channel all that repressed rage into a productive, worthwhile pursuit." She said all this in the tone of one listing the pros and cons of various window treatments. "And it all suits him fine, as he told me he couldn't survive two hours with me if I didn't spend it with my legs in the air, so no worries of sore feelings on either side, really."

"Ah." Harry felt sure he'd never want to eat again. "I see." He pushed his vegetables around on his plate and tried hard not to picture Pansy and Nott together. "So, I wonder…do you…does he let you…what I mean to say is, do you call him by his first or last name now?" there was a moment of silence, and then Pansy burst into hysterical laughter. Harry felt rather embarrassed, though he couldn't think why she'd found his question so funny, and instead of asking her, he grumpily stabbed a spear of asparagus with his fork.

"Oh Draco," Pansy clutched the blonde man's shoulder as she recovered, and Harry noticed he was smiling as well. "I take it back. He _is_ funny. I don't think he meant that as a joke, but…oh! You see, Harry," Pansy composed herself once more before addressing the question. "You're thinking of this in a very Weasley-and-Granger-making-a-life-together-loving-couple sort of way. And frankly, the idea of Nott and I sharing intimacies, whispering sweet-nothings, talking about a future life together with two kids and a country estate as well as a London townhouse—that was my plan for you and I, Draco dear—is just…probably the best joke I've heard in a long time."

"Well…doesn't it bother you, knowing it's going nowhere?" Harry regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, but rather than look upset, Pansy let out a sharp burst of laughter, thought it was oddly mirthless.

"You _stole_ my prospective husband, Potter, and you wonder that I'm dallying with the master of antisocial cynicism?" she took a deep drink of wine before continuing. "I don't feel as though _I_ am the problem, so it doesn't bother me at all the relationship is headed nowhere. _I_ would be an _excellent_ wife. _Anyone_ should be pleased to have me. I come from an old family, and even though I'm independently wealthy, thanks to that same family's resources, I choose to work. I would be free to quit as soon as the time came to run out household, making sure the children were well looked after. I can cook _and_ clean if there is no house elf to work. As you may have guessed, I'm an _extremely_ talented seamstress. I have impeccable taste, and I am an _excellent_ conversationalist. As a child, my parents saw to it that I would be fluent in five languages, so if my husband travels in whatever his business may be, I could assist him, or at the very least, tutor my own children. There hasn't been a squib in my direct line for eight generations, and my mother had no trouble giving my father seven children in all. _I_ would make an _excellent_ wife for anyone who could hope to have me." She drained her glass.

"Nott, on the other hand, comes from a long line of unexceptional wizards. I doubt even _he _noticed his father's death. He uses his squanders his inheritance so as to live a life of solitude and leisure, without _any_ concern for whether he'll be able to leave anything behind when _he_ dies. He lays about half the day, reading books and sleeping, and the rest of the time, he drinks himself into a nearly comatose state on some horrible piss even the most desperate booze hound would hesitate to touch. He has no goals, no ambitions, no discernible desires. His only joy is in the failure of other, harder working people. He is only really good at spellwork if he can muster the energy to apply himself, and he's the same way about every other aspect of his life. Whatever brilliance he was born with lies wasted as he slowly drinks himself to death. If it weren't for me, he'd be living in utter squalor, as he has no interest in the cleanliness of his surroundings. He isn't very attractive, he has an extremely short attention span, and I'm not sure he's capable of the healthy expression of any human emotion. He hates talking to anyone for any length of time, and would likely give any child he could conceive a complex before it could walk. He's a horrible, mean man without an iota of compassion in him, who uses a veil of apathy to disguise his own self-loathing caused by his chronic inability to find anything good to do with himself, and his continued lack of conviction to even try."

There was a long silence then. Harry knew he was no expert at interpreting women, but he was quite sure he'd just hit on a sore subject for Pansy.

"So you see," she smiled primly, turning back to her plate, "_I_ don't have a problem. _He's_ the one doomed to a life of rejection and solitude. And I _don't_—I…" she broke off, halfway through cutting a small piece of meat from the steak on her plate. Harry might not have known what was going on, but when he looked up, Draco's face had a look of pure panic on it. He gave Harry a desperate glance, and then his mouth moved a bit as though he were struggling to find the right thing to say. That's when Harry realized that Pansy was crying. "I don't _want_ it to be serious, do you understand? You broke my heart, Draco. I don't ever want to feel that again, the way I felt…when I saw you two in the paper…the way you look at him. I would have done _anything_ to have that from you. But you're the same Draco you've always been. You only want something if you can't have it, if it's challenging. As soon as everything smoothes out for you two, you'll do the same thing to Harry, won't you?"

Again, there was silence, except the sound of her sniffling in as dignified a manner as possible. Harry looked at Draco, who had become a decidedly squeamish shade of grey, and then back at Pansy, who had tears running down her pale cheeks. "I just wish I could hate you. But I never will, and I have to settle for being mean to your boyfriend, who really hasn't done anything wrong, and having loads of angry sex with an even meaner version of you, because honestly, he's a blonde Slytherin who thinks he's better than everyone, so what do _you_ think I saw in him?" she stopped there, let out a great sob, and turned to Harry, trying to smile apologetically through her tears.

"S—sorry about this." She dabbed at her eyes with her napkin. "I usually n—never cry at a d—d—dinner party like this."

"Ah," Harry shrugged, and after a moment's consideration of what Hermione would recommend in a situation like this, reached out and squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Well, it's no big deal. Only the three of us, anyway. It's my fault for asking so many questions."

"You were just being p—polite." She blew her nose loudly and dabbed at her face once more. "I h—hope this won't stop you from having me over again."

"No, of course not." Harry replied, feeling that he was very afraid of Pansy's mood swings. He remembered when he had found Ginny and Hermione unpredictable, and suddenly realized that if Pansy was to be considered a "normal" female, he had gotten off light thus far. And considering that, he thought that perhaps Cho had not been as utterly mad as he'd always thought. He was suddenly very glad to be in love with a man, temperamental though Draco might be.

"Come on then, Pansy," Draco had apparently recovered nicely from Pansy's outburst, and was now completely composed as he stood up and offered her his hand. "Let's get you cleaned up, and we can all have dessert."

She set down her napkin and eyed the offered hand with some trepidation. "I should just leave. I've ruined your evening already, I shouldn't stay and make it worse."

"Pansy, dear," Draco went to his knees so that they were eye level, and Harry wondered how this could possibly help the girl get over him. "I wish I could make this easier for you, but there's never going to be someone quite like me, and despite what you say, Nott is really a poor substitute. But maybe, if you can look past our vague similarities, you can see that somewhere, deep down, Nott could be an excellent choice for you. Perhaps, with your influence, he could learn to be less…less of an evil bastard, and you could find out there's some excellent husband material under that I-hate-everything veneer. But if it doesn't work out for you two, remember that you _are_ an excellent example of a woman, and there will be endless choices for you. If I only fancied girls, I assure you, all those times in school you attempted to seduce me would have been quite successful, and had I not spent the last few years in Azkaban, we'd already be raising at least one of those children, and even if we hadn't located the perfect townhouse, we would at least be able to take over Malfoy Manor, and it would all be quite lovely. But I've never gone after women, try though I might to do as my parents wish. So I'm with Harry, and that's that."

Harry was aghast. He never felt as though he was the best at handling these sorts of situations, but he knew for sure that had to be the least consoling, most insensitive thing he had ever heard. It was almost as if he _wanted_ to make things worse with Pansy. But, to Harry's amazement, when Draco finished off his speech by opening his arms in a welcoming gesture, his face showing a clear expectation of a gracious reception for his words, Pansy's tear-streaked face split into a wide grin, and she lunged into his open arms, giggling with delight.

_That's it, I give up,_ Harry thought in utter confusion as Draco indulgently allowed Pansy to pepper his face with kisses. _Women are completely barking. I can't ever _hope_ to understand them, and I don't think I _want_ to._

"You're such a self-absorbed prat," she told him in the tones of a doting mother. "What would I do without you?"

"Apparently, Nott." He joked, helping her up and walking her to the bathroom, both of them laughing and chatting jovially along the way.

Harry thought about sneaking up to bed, since he was worn out, and Pansy was proving to be rather exhausting, but before he could make up his mind, Draco and she came back for dessert. The atmosphere was suddenly much more relaxed, and despite his cautious fear of setting off another fit, Harry found himself having rather a good time. By the end of the night, he had almost forgotten her outburst, and could not help thinking that Pansy and him might finally be on good terms, which made him feel rather please, as he knew it was rather important to Draco, whether or not he admitted it. He could go on all day about how he didn't care if Harry liked his friends, but Harry had a shrewd suspicion that Draco's feelings in this matter were quite like his own.

Even if it seemed impossible, Harry couldn't help dreaming of a day when Draco and the Weasleys got along. Maybe they'd never share the camaraderie that had developed between Draco and Hermione, but Harry dreamed of holidays together where no one got jinxed, of lunches with Draco, Ron, Hermione and him all getting along almost as well as if they'd never been rivals in school. And he wondered if Draco wanted to see Harry with his friends, as well as his family. And as he watched Draco and Pansy reminisce about their school days, Harry decided he would do everything in his power to win over Narcissa Malfoy's approval. He knew they both had at least one thing in common, after all. They both loved Draco, no matter what.

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To be continued…


	28. Chapter 28

Shades of Truth

Chapter 28

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"I think Pansy likes you," Draco sounded so smug as he watched Harry clear up the remains of dinner, it was as though he felt this new amicability was entirely due to his efforts.

"I like her, too." Harry smiled at Draco, "though she can be a bit…ah, unpredictable. I'm glad she's done being angry with me."

"Yes, well, women are a trial, aren't they? That's why I've chosen to be with _you_." Draco leaned over the counter as Harry started the dishes washing themselves and then wiped off the table by hand. "You don't have any idea how sexy it is when you do housework, do you?"

"Oh, don't I know it." Harry snorted as he tossed the washrag back into the sink and wiped his hands off on a towel. "That's the whole reason I clean, really."

"No, I'm trying to pay you a compliment!" Draco pouted slightly, "You're just so…sure of yourself, and I wouldn't have an idea how to do half of that cleaning stuff, I don't know…"

"You're seriously weird." Harry retorted, laughing as he said it and opening his arms to beckon Draco to him, kissing him slowly, "you know, I did laundry today…" he whispered in the other man's ear, tracing a slow path down his back. "Three loads."

"Okay, that's it, I'm never being nice to you again, you prat." Draco shoved him away with a smile on his face to show he got the joke. "How was the Weasley gathering, then?"

"Sad, really, but George acted almost normal, so we're thinking…maybe he could recover." Harry told him excitedly. "I wish I could tell them you recovered the remains, they would really feel so grateful, and I really…I really want you to get along."

"They hate me, Harry," Draco looked a bit dejected at the voicing of this wish. "I know it means a lot to you and all, but they'll never _not_ hate me, you know? They always have and they always will."

"Give them a chance, please," Harry reached out and traced Draco's jaw line with one finger. "If someone had told you back at Hogwarts that we would be _here_ one day, you'd have thought them daft, am I right? So who's to say things can't change there as well."

"There's just…so much history. My father hated their father, and his father hated their grandfather, and so on back until…I don't recall what the start of it was, but I don't think it even had anything to do with the pureblood thing…probably someone on some side borrowed a book and ruined it, something silly like that." Draco grumbled truculently, trying his very best to resist the face Harry was making at him. "Oh, go on then, look at me like I'm being a stubborn git. I can't take back all that history, no matter how stupid it was to start out with."

"Draco, the Weasleys…they're not my actual family, but they're the closest thing I had to a real family growing up. It would _really_ mean a lot if you could make an attempt." Harry leaned forward, nuzzling the other man's neck. "You're my family now, and I want all of you to get along…reasonably well."

"You…what?" Draco gently seized Harry's shoulders and pushed him back to look him in the eye. "You think of me as…family?"

"Well, I know we've had our troubles," Harry shrugged, wishing he wasn't suddenly flushing so deeply. "But having you here with me…it's only been just over a month, but it's…I've never been someone who is really _excited _to go home after work, I've never really understood, I think. Course, I've been tired…but what I mean is, every day, I can't wait to come home and see you, and when you aren't here, I just _wait_ to see you again. And it's not like you need to _do_ anything once you're there…just being with you, and I feel so…so happy. I love waking up next to you, knowing you'll be there again the next day, and the day after that. I wish…I wish it could _always_ be like this. I know it must seem weird, since we've only been living together five weeks, but—"

Harry did not get any further. Draco kissed him so hard he felt sure his lips would be bruised, his hands clenching tightly in Harry's robes so that he felt suddenly how much stronger Draco had gotten since he'd been freed, felt under their clothes all the extra muscle mass he had put on. He still seemed horribly skinny to Hermione, as she was constantly making comments about how he wasn't getting enough to eat, but to Harry it seemed rather normal, as they had both been wiry youths, and Harry had never become a bulky man, nor had Draco.

He was still getting used to having Draco be able to overpower him on occasion, though. He had his health back, and that made Harry happy, but he liked to be the one in control, as well. As Draco tried to lift Harry up bodily, he suddenly retaliated, steering them away from the couch Draco had almost reached, to the stairs that would lead to their bedroom.

"Have it your way," Draco grunted, his voice husky as he tripped Harry and pinned him down on the stairs, not seeming very concerned about the way his head cracked loudly against the wood.

"Ow!" Harry couldn't help laughing as they began to wrestle. Harry clearly wanted to get up and go upstairs, but Draco seemed content to have his way with him here on the stairs. "Not…ow, this hurts! I'll have bruises!"

"Should've gone to the couch then," Draco was busily unfastening Harry's clothes while he covered his neck with wet, sucking kisses. "Always have to win, don't you?"

"You're one to…ah…ah!" Harry was cut off as Draco slid his fingers past open trousers to the throbbing heat resting between them. "You're…horrible…at compromise."

"Am I?" Draco paused, his fingers leaving Harry surging up for more sensation, more touch. "Fine, we'll go upstairs." And he leapt up so quickly Harry was nearly left behind as they went to their bedroom. Once he passed the threshold, Draco finished undressing him with a few practiced motions and then pointed imperiously to the bed. "but I get to be on top."

"What?" Harry's head was spinning, and he wasn't sure how Draco was staying so cool when they were already this far along, and why were his clothes still on anyway? It was distinctly unfair. "Take those off." He pouted slightly, reaching to help Draco with his trousers first, as the blonde man whipped off his shirt and patiently allowed Harry to finish with his own chosen task.

"See, I can compromise." Draco kicked the offending clothes away and shoved Harry roughly to the mattress before climbing on top of him and tossing Harry's glasses aside carelessly. "I'm the _master_ of compromise."

"It's not…ah…a contest." Harry felt his train of thought wander as Draco kissed his neck before grinding their erections together, one long-fingered hand clasping Harry's hip as though to direct him in this, the other helping prop him up above the dark-haired man.

"No, it's not." Draco's voice was suddenly very soft and full of emotion as he slowed the motion of his hips and stared down into Harry's vibrant green eyes, his own grey gaze warm and full of adoration, "I love you, Harry."

"I…I know," Harry felt momentarily stupid as he felt the hand on his hip trace lovingly up his side and back down. "I love you, too."

"I'm…I'm glad that you want to live with me still." Draco lowered his head so that his eyes were hidden, and then he bent to shower light, lazy kisses on Harry's neck, his chest, his chin, his cheeks. "I thought you'd be sick of me by now."

"Wh…no, I love it." Harry assured him, still feeling a bit off balance, and wondering why Draco wasn't still grinding against him. Levering himself up a bit, Harry attempted to grind up into the other man, causing Draco to let out a long, low groan, his head whipping back, and his eyes fluttering shut momentarily. "I want…I want…"

"I'm going to, I know, I know how." Draco's words were husky, and Harry wasn't really paying much attention, because he wasn't sure what the other man was talking about, and that didn't matter, because his whole world then was Draco's skin on his, his fingers squeezing almost painfully on his hip, that liquid look of pleasure in his eyes, and the heat of him pressed against Harry. "Don't be afraid, I'll be careful."

"Yeah…right…like that," Harry sighed happily as he continued to move against the man who was reaching across the bed for something on the nightstand, and finding himself not really caring _what_ Draco was doing, as long as he stayed in bed. He reached down, ready to wrap his hand around both of their lengths, to work them off to climax, and was briefly surprised when his aim was cut short by Draco, who had gotten something very slippery on his hand, and used it to rub them both.

Harry could not really find it in him to object to this, as it felt absolutely delicious, and he wondered why he'd never thought of using some lotion or something when they were together before, because it felt amazing. "Oh…Draco…fuck!" he cried out, bucking upward wildly, trying to make the other man speed up, but to no avail.

"Not yet," he heard the whispered words as Draco kissed and licked at his neck, but he did not understand yet what was happening until he felt that slippery hand leave his length and suddenly find its way somewhere that they had both left mostly unexplored so far.

"Ah! Ah! What are you _doing!_" Harry nearly leapt out of his skin in surprise when he felt the finger tire of its brief exploration and slip inside of him. "Your…it's…you put it…ah!"

"Come on, Harry," Draco looked serious, but he couldn't keep the note of pleading out of his tone. "if you want me to stop, if you _really_ want me to stop, I will," Draco wiggled his finger slightly, and Harry's eyes went wide at an unexpected jolt of pleasure. "But I'm ready for this, and I think you are, too. I know what to do, and I won't hurt you, and…and next time, _you_ can be on top, but just…just please let me try to do this."

There was a moment of silence, of hesitation, and Harry could feel a tightening in his chest that he knew was fear, but he _did_ trust Draco, and he believed him when he said he wouldn't hurt him. And it did feel odd to have something in him like that…but when Draco moved his finger…just _so_…it felt…

"Yeah, okay," Harry nodded sharply.

----------

"Would you _stop_ laughing at me!" Harry grumbled as he walked stiffly to the heating skillet, eggs held in both hands. "I'm making you _breakfast_, and you're making fun of me!"

"I'm not _laughing!_" Draco attempted to stop smiling at the way Harry was pretending that he was feeling just fine. "I just like when you act all tough. I think it's cute."

"I'm going to shove this _egg_ up your ass, and then we'll see who walks funny." Harry grumbled. "Remember, you told me I could be on top next time. Look forward to some pay back!"

"Whatever, you were the one who kept telling me to go faster." Draco pulled out the orange juice and poured two glasses. "I told you, but _no_, you know better, of course."

"I hate you." Harry grumbled.

"I could try to…fix it up, you know?" Draco offered. "Blaise taught me a really good charm, if you like."

"Is that who told you how…all that stuff! _Blaise!_" Harry seemed only further incensed, but Draco shrugged good-naturedly. "Why did I even _let_ you be on top, anyway? At least I have _some_ idea, after all, I've had sex before, at least."

"Don't start with me." Draco wanted to work up some agitation, but he couldn't help just feeling extremely pleased that nothing had gone horribly wrong their first time having sex. "It was a different story last night. Shall I do an impression?"

"Seriously, you'd feel better if you let me do the charm." Draco offered, pulling his wand out and toying with it casually. "I mean, you're making me breakfast, I'm just trying to being nice."

"I don't want Blaise's stupid charm." Harry grumbled. "I'll be fine."

"Okay, because I don't think we should do it again until you're all better." Draco assured him with mock concern.

"Like I care." Harry dropped a plate in front of the other man sharply. "Eat. I'm going back to bed."

"I love you." Draco smiled brightly at him.

"I hate you." Harry took his own plate of food and huffed out of the room, heading back upstairs. Draco rolled his eyes.

"Oooh, do it to me harder!" Draco called after him in a purposefully high voice, ducking as a red stream of light nearly hit him dead on. "Hey! No Stunners in the house!"

"Fuck you!"

"Be like that!" Draco called back and turned to his breakfast. "I can't help that I'm a demon in bed." He grumbled before eating. He would give Harry time, he was sure the other man could only resist him for so long.

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To be continued…

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Again, for this chapter, there is a more...ah, detailed version that will be posting on No, I haven't posted it yet, I'm scrambling to finish the whole story by tomorrow, but trust me, I'm very close.


	29. Chapter 29

Shades of Truth

Chapter 29

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"And he's doing really well, honestly." Hermione told Harry as they sat in his living room waiting for Draco to get dressed. "The doctors say that he's showing cognizance of who he is, of what's going on, and that other than some depression, he seems to be nearly normal again. They're thinking of discharging him after they've had another couple of weeks to observe him, just to make sure he's really going to be okay."

"So that means he'd be out by the wedding." Harry nodded happily, "Ron must be excited."

"He is, they all are." Hermione pursed her lips and glanced at the staircase. "I just have to ask you one thing…"

"Okay, I'm ready!" Draco called down the stairs, and Hermione immediately cut off, shaking her head sharply at Harry when he gave her a questioning glance.

"Later." She hissed as the blonde man joined them, dressed in very nicely tailored robes. "You look _gorgeous_, Draco." She leapt to her feet and pressed a kiss to his cheek warmly. "If only you could put on a _little_ more weight."

"I'm fine," Draco rolled his eyes. "I can't believe you want to go to my mother's house for brunch. I don't think you understand what a torture it is."

"Well, she's getting laid now, she should be a little easier to deal with." Harry teased, and Draco glared at him. "What?"

"So, Hermione," Draco turned smoothly to the woman as though he hadn't expressed any annoyance at the other man. "Have I done my newest Harry impression for you? It's quite good."

"I will flay you." Harry's voice was icy cold, and Hermione burst into giggles as the dots connected.

"Harry's no fun, he never lets us talk about inappropriate bedroom things." She sighed heavily.

"Well, as a consolation prize, I'll just offer this." Draco pulled a grotesque face and Harry went a deep shade of red, quivering with embarrassment and anger.

"What's _that?_" Hermione wanted to know. Draco leaned over and whispered something in her ear and she went nearly as scarlet as Harry, giggling horribly.

"I do _not_ make that face." Harry grumbled as they headed for the door.

"Maybe if I do that for mother, she'll take more of a shine to you." Draco offered, ducking as Harry attempted to slap the back of his head. "Temper!"

"You know, I'm doing this for _you_." Harry told the other man huffily as they left the house together, heading for an alley that they could Apparate from.

"Stop being mean to Harry, Draco." Hermione finally interceded. When Harry was a bit further ahead of them, she leaned toward Draco. "That was really funny, though. Does he really make that face?"

"On my honor as a Slytherin." Draco answered solemnly. "Hurry, he'll suspect we're planning a romantic rendezvous back here," he caught her hand in his and she laughed sharply.

"Yeah, we could elope, and leave Harry and Ron together. We're too pretty for them, anyway." Hermione joked as they drew close to where Harry waited for them.

"And it does seem a shame for me to deprive the world of further Malfoys." Draco sighed heavily before attempting to kiss Harry, who batted him away. "Yes, let's get married, Granger."

"Excellent plan. We'll tell your mother now." She blew him a kiss and Harry let out a long-suffering sigh before the three of them Apparated to the edge of Malfoy Manor. The whole way up to the house, Hermione and Draco elaborated on their plans to run away together, and Harry began offering suggestions as to which one would be the husband and why, feeling a bit happier now that he was making fun of Draco, so they were all laughing by the time they reached the large front doors.

"Just remember, I love you, and if she's going to be mean about it then she and Snape can just _have_ each other." Draco told Harry sharply before knocking. Hermione giggled once more.

"I think she means that as a punishment for his mother, but you know, I bet Snape is a really—" Draco clapped a hand over her mouth.

"For my sanity, I'm going to pretend the end of that sentence was 'greasy old hermit.'" Draco told her rather primly. "And please never talk about Snape in any way that could be…"

"Draco likes to imagine he never walked in on them shagging." Harry offered, and Draco went deep red as Hermione's mouth flew open in surprise.

"Really? Was it—" but whatever Hermione was going to ask was cut off as the door was opened by a house elf and they were ushered inside. Draco clearly knew where he was going, which was no surprise, considering he'd grown up here, but Harry was privately very confused by the expansive house with its myriad passages and doorways, and he thought it was a wonder that Draco had been able to find his way around this place as a small child.

"Go announce us," Draco told the house elf once they reached the doors that must lead to the dining room, and ignored the disapproving look from Hermione.

"He's not trying to give it more work." Harry whispered loud enough for him to hear. "He's just afraid of seeing Snape naked again."

"That _never_ happened." Draco looked so thoroughly pained as he said this that no one had any doubt that it _did_ happen, despite what he said. "And I would thank you all to keep a civil tongue if you insist on accompanying me to brunch."

The doors were opened then, and they entered the room where Narcissa Malfoy was already seated in front of a veritable feast of breakfast fare. At her side, Severus Snape had risen to his feet, and he did not sit down again until he pulled out a chair for Hermione, who first insisted on giving him a hug, which he rather stiffly accepted, though it was clear that he expected few things less than a warm greeting by Hermione Granger.

"Mother, excellent to see you with your clothes on." Draco apparently felt no need to follow his own advice as he gave her a little ironic bow and made a show of kissing her hand before taking his own seat. "Snape, you as well."

"Don't call him that, Draco dear." Narcissa chided gently, apparently able to pretend she hadn't even heard the first bit.

"I'm not calling him father, if that's what you're after." Draco pouted rather impressively, and Harry briefly wondered whether the brunch would be difficult because of Narcissa, or because of Draco's fussing.

"Professor Snape, I think she means," Hermione suggested, but the older man shook his head slightly.

"No longer. Simply Severus, I think, would suffice. Though if he wishes to address me as Snape, I would not hesitate to allow him that. " He offered the room, and there was a brief silence as a pair of house elves doled out the food, despite Hermione's brief, failed struggle to serve herself.

"It's good to see you again," Harry told the older man sincerely. "It was odd having the house empty."

"Not empty for long, I think?" Severus raised a single dark brow as he slowly spread jam over his scone. "I wish I could say that I missed Grimmauld Place, but I feel that everyone here is happier in their current living arrangements as they are." He gave Narcissa a grin that looked like he was not sure how smiles worked, but was attempting the closest approximation he could imagine. "Even your mother is happy for you, Draco. Aren't you, my dear?"

"Severus and I have spoken about…your current…situation." Narcissa looked as though she was not eating a bite of syrup-covered waffle, but instead a rotten banana peel. "and I have come…to understand that you are young, and I must allow you to…to discover yourself at your leisure." There was a long silence, and were it not for the expectant look Snape was shooting at her, everyone might have thought Narcissa was finished. "And I support you in all your life choices. But I want you to remember that you're still young, and despite what you've experienced, there are no end of young ladies that would jump at the chance—"

"Enough, Narcissa." Snape cut her off, and she retired to her waffle with a rather rebellious look on her face. Harry was privately amazed at how quickly he was able to use the skills that had made him such a formidable presence in the classroom to become the unquestionable head of this household. "Draco, all of us worked hard to see you free, to be able to do just _this_," he indicated the brunch they were sharing. "And we did not long to see you do as anyone else wanted, or we would have left you in prison. Freedom does not mean simply living out of prison, it means that you have all of life's choices and possibilities placed before you, and I will find myself disappointed if you should shy away from doing what you wish simply because you think it might not be the path another would choose for you. Your mother may not have been excited to see this specific choice, but you should not let that deter you. She has her own life to live, and knows that she cannot live yours for you as well."

"Yes." Narcissa answered his expectant glance in the most grudging voice Harry imagined she could muster. "And Harry Potter…is a fine young man." She said this with the tones of someone having it dragged out of her under extreme duress, but Harry expected this was probably as much as he could hope for at this juncture.

"Thank you, Narcissa, and I promise that I will always look after Draco to the best of my abilities." He nodded to her politely, and Draco gave him an odd look that said he wasn't aware Harry was capable of being as formal and stiff as his mother. Harry had to repress the urge to smile, but he did slide an unseen hand under the table to rest lightly on Draco's thigh, which cleared his expression at once.

"So, I had forgotten to tell you, Ron and I have set a date." Hermione decided to take over the conversation after a few moments of silence, turning to Snape and smiling brilliantly. "The wedding's in three and a half weeks."

"Congratulations," Snape made an odd sort of face that it took Harry a moment to realize was meant to be encouraging. "May all your children not resemble him in the slightest."

"Hear, hear!" Draco raised his glass of juice in response to Snape's odd blessing. "I keep telling her she is too good for him, but she won't seem to listen to me. Possibly because she secretly wants to be with me, but she realizes it's impossible, and would like to keep her inner pain a secret."

"That's exactly it, Draco," Hermione rolled her eyes as she buttered her toast. "Harry, how do you manage to live with such an overpowering ego?"

"I'm a fantastic lay." Draco answered for Harry, causing Narcissa to choke on her tea and spill half the cup in her lap, while Severus simply raised a brow and then handed the older woman his napkin to help her mop up the mess.

"Very good, Draco," Snape responded in a droll tone. "Are you satisfied, or shall I arrange for your mother to walk in on the two of you mid-coitus in the study?" This time Hermione choked on her toast, but luckily no more damage occurred beyond a few crumbs falling down her front.

"If she really wants to watch, I've always wanted to have a go with someone in father's study," Draco tilted his head to one side as though tempted by the suggestion. "You know, create memories of a rebellious, passion-fuelled youth, rather than my current state of complete mind-fuck."

"I apologize for my part in your…difficulties, but without my involvement, you would likely be a gibbering idiot at this point, not to mention that if I had not intervened, you'd still be rotting in Azkaban, likely without the benefit of conjugal visits from young Potter." Snape responded in a cool voice.

"Oh, that's _right!_ I owe everything to you!" Draco affected a mocking tone. "My freedom, my sanity, even my boyfriend! How could I ever repay you? How about you have your slimy way with my poor widowed mother? Oh, wait!"

"Draco, I am an adult, free to make my own choices, and I see no need to cloister myself now that your father is gone." Narcissa straightened her back. "I spent years alone, mourning him despite his faults, and I am ready to make a new life for myself. Besides all that, you mustn't come to me, demanding my blessings for your choice to flout your father's wishes _and_ my own, and then dictate to me what I should do with _my_ life!"

"_How_ can you go from my father to Snape?" Draco threw up his hands in exasperation. "Don't get me wrong, he's an excellent friend and mentor to me, but he's not anywhere _near _as attractive as father! He has no money to speak of, and if he'd had any, it would be rather difficult to access, considering he's a wanted murderer who was only recently presumed _dead!_"

"I killed for _you_, if you've forgotten, and I would not have made the same choice Albus did if it had been left solely to me to decide." Snape's voice was suddenly an angry snarl Harry recalled from his school days, but he had rarely witnessed him directing his ire at Draco.

"You killed for _her!_" Draco pointed at his mother. "Then you framed me for killing _you!_"

"Your father planted _that_ memory." Snape countered. "And if I didn't kill him, as your mother asked, _you_ would have been killed as a punishment for your failure, as well as your father's failures! I have looked out for you and supported you from the day you were born, despite your reluctance to accept help from anyone even when the alternatives are horrible, because of your stupid, stubborn pride and pigheadedness. Your mother has done the same, trying to protect you even from those punishments that were deserved, coddling you to a ridiculous degree, despite your severe lack of gratitude or respect for her sacrifices. You are in no position to judge our private lives, or begrudge us our small bit of happiness!"

"You're not my father!" Draco roared back, and Hermione leapt to her feet, clearly prepared to intervene if the fight became physical. "You never will be!"

"I do not _wish_ to be anything of the sort!" Snape snapped back.

"Then stop shagging my mother!" Draco pulled out his wand, and in an instant, so did Snape.

"Boys! No hexes at the table!" Narcissa used her sternest tone to no effect.

"Okay!" Hermione had her own wand out, and both men clearly took her intervention a bit more seriously. Both had at some point been on the receiving end of her displeasure, and clearly had no wish to relive the experience. "How's this? Narcissa, you support Harry and Draco. Draco, you support Severus and Narcissa, and _everyone_ eats nicely with _no_ yelling _or_ jinxes. Or, I can lock you two up in those dungeons Draco tells me about, and you two can curse each other silly while the rest of us eat in peace."

There was a long silence, Severus and Draco both eyeing each other warily, and then slowly putting their wands away simultaneously, still watching one another cautiously, their eyes darting over to Hermione occasionally to gauge the danger there.

"Good," Hermione's wand disappeared as well and she sat down primly, her back nearly as straight as Narcissa's. "Pass the jam, please?"

Harry handed her the requested jar as Narcissa watched it all with no small amount of amazement. It was clear that she had never witnessed a witch like Hermione exert her power before. Finally, the blonde woman turned to Hermione and offered a dazzling smile.

"You know, I had heard that you were formidable, but I suppose I underestimated you, possibly due to your origins," she spoke in a measured tone. "But I have to say, I quite like you."

"Oh?" Hermione was caught by surprise at this, as was Draco, who looked quite thunderstruck at this revelation. "Thank you."

----------

To be Continued…


	30. Chapter 30

Shades of Truth

Chapter 30

----------

"I don't know if this is a good idea," Harry opined as Draco strolled with him to the Leaky Cauldron. "Don't you think it'll be a bit awkward?"

"What?" Draco looked vaguely surprised at this concern. "I thought Pansy and you were getting along now."

"Yes, but if she brings Nott—"

"Oh, I doubt he'll come, I just told her that to be nice." Draco waved his hand airily. "He hates being around people. The more there are, the surlier he gets. But it's obvious Pansy's serious about this, so I thought—"

"I'm sorry," Harry stopped walking, cutting Draco off. "I thought this was some sort of double date, but you don't expect Nott to even come? And what do you _mean_ she's serious about him? She said it was meaningless sex."

"Trust me, Harry, I know Pansy." Draco assured the other man. "She's saying all that to throw us off. She's fallen for him."

"Do…do you think it'll work out?" Harry wanted to know, and Draco considered this thoughtfully.

"Well, she's his type, isn't she?" Draco shrugged. "After all, the only other serious girlfriend he had was Lavender Brown."

"Wait…" Harry shook his head furiously as if trying to clear it. "Nott…and Lavender? When? _Why?_"

"Harry, your gossip fever is going to make us _late_." Draco chided gently. "But if you _must_ know, I have it on good authority that Nott and Brown 'secretly' dated during the seventh year."

"Nott told you that?" Harry asked, incredulous.

"_No_." Draco huffed impatiently. "Like he'd even tell me his favorite color, much less who he's _shagged?_ No, Pansy told me they kept having rendezvous all over Hogwarts, and she said that everyone in Slytherin knew about it."

"How?" Harry asked.

"Because he'd sneak her in at night almost daily." Draco answered. "Now can we just _go?_ Because I don't mean to be late."

"Fine, fine." Harry started moving again. "I'm just…it seems so _unlikely_."

"Yes, certainly, he _does_ hate pink fluffy things, while she adored them, as I recall, but do you remember her death? He carried her out of there. That was probably the nicest thing I'd ever seen him intentionally do. Even if they weren't shagging as constantly as Pansy told me when I asked about it, he must have cared for her a bit." Draco paused, "I think the real point of disbelief is that he has the capacity to care about _anyone_. After that, putting him together with Brown isn't such a huge leap. We already know he's sleeping with Pansy now, and they're both fashion obsessed gossip queens, so it makes sense."

"Still…I don't know," Harry sighed as they entered the bar and sat down since Pansy wasn't there yet. "She seems…a little more _evil_ than Lavender, you know?"

"I'll assume that by evil, you mean clever and fun to hang out with. If so, than yes, yes she is." Draco agreed, and Harry abstained from comment, simply ordering a pair of ales.

As soon as their drinks arrived, so did Pansy, with an extremely aggrieved Nott in tow. She steered him by his elbow straight to Draco and Harry's table, deposited him as though he were a truculent handbag, and then made a great show of greeting each of the men with hugs and kisses. Then she sat down and called out an order for a drink that sounded very much like it might be pink and actually asked for a glass of "the most vile horse piss you carry" for Nott, who did not seem at all surprised or concerned at this order, but who _did_ finally speak once she had finished.

"I'm not paying." He told her quite firmly, as though expecting a fight.

"What else is new?" Pansy rolled her eyes. She smiled apologetically at Draco and Harry. "I'm afraid my sweetie didn't seem very excited to come out tonight, but then, I've gathered that he views anything that requires him to wear pants as probably not worth his time."

"Which is why I spend _any_ time with you." Nott grumbled.

"Yes dear, very good." Pansy patted him on the head as though he were a lapdog, and Nott seemed to swell with indignant rage. Before he could say anything in response to this, their drinks arrived, and he apparently decided the best way to vent his spleen was to drink his own as fast as possible and order another. Pansy sighed and rolled her eyes. "You see? Just as I told you, he's a complete lush."

"Maybe if he has enough to drink, he'll act like a normal person." Draco postulated thoughtfully.

"I don't think there's enough liquor in the world for that." Pansy retorted before sipping her pink drink. "So, did I tell you? Granger's invited me to her wedding."

"Ha!" Draco laughed sharply and clinked his glass against hers. "Probably wanted me to feel less like I might get lynched, what with all the Weasleys there. It might be good if you came…like old times."

"Draco," Harry pursed his lips, "you said that you wouldn't ruin Hermione's day."

"Yes, but I never said I wouldn't ruin Weasley's day." At Harry's sharp look he shrugged resignedly. "Fine, fine, I'll be good. But at least if Pansy brings Nott, I'll have a good drinking partner."

"No _way_," Nott spoke up, "am I going to the Weasel Orgy."

"Sweetness, don't be crass." Pansy chided him, and the way his face twitched at the endearment frankly frightened Harry. "It's a _wedding_, not an orgy. You've never _been_ to a wedding, now have you? They're very nice, and there's loads of alcohol, but everyone is meant to keep their clothes on. I'll even let you bring a flask, if you like. And besides, you know the Weasleys, they're not actually anything _like_ weasels. You remember, sugar lump, they went to school with us. Red-haired Gryffindors?"

At the words "sugar lump," Nott's hands tightened so violently, Harry expected the glass he was holding to shatter, and his fingernails actually left small scores in the tabletop. "I'm _not_ going." He hissed, his whole frame taut with barely restrained rage.

"Okay," Pansy smiled sweetly as though this did not trouble her in the least. "You can trade _that_ for three more dates. How about shoe shopping tomorrow? I need a new pair, and I can't decide. We'll start early, when you're nice and hung-over, apple dumpling."

"Fine!" Nott slammed back his entire drink, releasing some of his rage. "I'll go to your damn wedding! But don't get any ideas!" he fumed, glaring at Pansy to no avail, and finally called for another drink rather than attempting to best her.

"Pansy," Draco couldn't keep his curiosity in any longer. "What's going on? What's with the names? And why hasn't Nott just slit your throat?"

"Every night, I'm tempted." He assured them before turning his focus to his drink.

"I thought about what you said," Pansy explained. "And decided that it was worth having a real go at it with him. So I said that basically, we'd either stop having sex, or he'd give in to a load of rules I came up with to take our relationship…further. For instance, I told him that it would make sense that I no longer address him by his surname, because as Harry so astutely pointed out, that's a bit…distant, but pudding pie here didn't want me using his first name, so I told him that if he hated it so much, I would kindly call him by any number of sweet nicknames until he finds it in him to allow me to say Theo—"

"I said _don't!_" Nott's sharply hissed command cut her off halfway through the name.

"Well, you know what his name is," Pansy examined her nails as though nothing untoward had just happened. "Anyway, that's why I keep calling him things like fluffy bunny and sugar tot and so forth. Another one that I'm particularly fond of is the public appearance mandate. You see, I explained to him that if we are supposed to be in a relationship, we should go do things together in public, so he is currently required to accompany me outside a minimum of five times a month. This was a compromise. I started at once a day, and he was hoping for once every five years. Negotiations took some time. Due to this rule, cuddle-muffin will be happy to accompany me to Granger's wedding, just as he was happy to come meet you two tonight for drinks."

"So, Nott," Draco was enjoying this all thoroughly, especially since Nott was clearly wishing he could disappear. "You know what they call this in normal relationships? You're whipped, mate. Welcome to monogamy."

"Oh please, you make it sound like you were such a playboy before." Pansy snorted slightly and Nott seemed to almost be able to forget his misery in favor of his joy at Draco's expense. "Harry, don't let him talk to you like that, you know he's a virgin…er, was a virgin? I don't know, have you two…"

"I don't really think—" Harry began, but Draco leapt in at the chance to rebuild his masculinity.

"Oh, we've _definitely_ done it." Draco mock-yawned as though to take up more space and draw further attention to him. "Yeah, I was on top."

"Ew." Nott twisted his face as though something smelled horrible. "Amazing, but after all those years in Slytherin, being a quasi-Death Eater in the war, everything that's happened, Draco can still say something that makes me want to be sick all over him." He took a swig of his drink and indicated Pansy. "Though you've nothing on her. Every time she talks, I can't decide whether I want to vomit everywhere or just cut my own throat." He turned to face her more obviously as she sipped her drink and watched him with an amused grin on her lips. "You drain my will to live."

"That's sweet, dear-heart, but that's your own lack of directionality or ambition." She gave him an acid smile. "Without me, I think your prick would lose the will to live. You certainly wouldn't have any use for it."

"Life was a lot better when I fucked my hand." Nott told Draco in a resigned tone. "Get out while you can."

"Now then," Draco turned to Harry with a wide grin, "Isn't this fun?"

"Um…yes?" Harry guessed that was the right answer. His goal for the evening was to not have Nott's drink in his lap. He wouldn't really mind Pansy's, it smelled fruity.

Just then, there was a disturbance at the entrance, and as Harry turned, his wand already in his hand, he noticed that it appeared as though a pair of wizards had tripped over each other upon entering the bar. This seemed odd, but he was carefully putting his wand away when he turned back to see Draco's poorly concealed smirk as Pansy admonished Nott.

"And if I have to tell you one more time, I won't allow you to carry a wand in public anymore!" she told him, shaking her finger as though he were a disobedient child. Nott was trying to look innocent and failing spectacularly.

"They just fell." He maintained. "You didn't even see my wand."

"That's because you're at least smart enough to do it under the table, but that's beside the point!" Pansy continued her tirade. "You cannot simply trip jinx anyone you like just because you are agitated. Being a grown wizard means using your powers responsibly, and if you—"

"_Silencio._" Nott produced his wand, and at once, Pansy was left pointing and mouthing angrily while he turned a self-satisfied expression on the other two men.

"You _did_ trip them, didn't you?" Draco questioned and Nott shrugged slightly, as good as admitting his responsibility for the incident.

"No one talk to me, I'm enjoying my peace." He indicated Pansy, who, realizing she'd simply have to wait for the spell to wear off or be removed, was doing her best to look as though nothing was amiss, sipping her drink slowly, possibly realizing she would have a hard time ordering another once she was done.

"You'll be in for it when she gets her tongue back." Draco assured him.

"Worth it." Nott grunted in response, drinking his own glass in a leisurely fashion. "This is the only quiet I've had in weeks."

"Can…can I just ask something?" Harry ventured, feeling exceptionally as though he were walking into that role of incredibly brave or incredibly stupid he had so often occupied in his school years. Nott turned an expectant look on him, and he licked his lips before continuing. "If you hate her so much, why do you…why are you still…"

"I'd tell you, but I doubt a pair of poufs like you could understand." Nott looked thoughtful a moment and then shook his head regretfully. "I wish I fancied blokes, it'd likely be easier. Women are infernally aggravating. Every day, I have to tell myself that if I can just hold back the urge to stab her, it'll be worth it."

"I don't know about it being easier this way." Harry opined before really thinking it through. "You forget, I'm dating Draco Malfoy."

"Touché, Potter." Nott raised his glass to the other man before slamming it back. Draco pinched Harry's leg in retribution, and he rubbed at it ruefully. "Although, I must say, I was surprised to hear Draco's the top."

"I—he's not—there are…" Harry was mortified.

"What he means is that if you could see how he moans, you'd understand that I am _most definitely_ the dominant one here." Draco offered with a very smug grin. Harry punched his arm and he corrected himself. "We trade."

"Okay…ew…I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up if I didn't want to endure a mental image of you two doing ungodly things…but that's horrid." Nott raised his nearly empty glass to them. "Let's agree never to discuss that again. For my sanity."

"Like what you see, eh Nott?" Draco asked while Harry immediately met Nott's glass with his own. As though out of nowhere, Draco's face was covered in great flapping things. Harry turned to see Nott stowing his wand while Draco frantically batted at the obstructions. Harry scooted away slightly while he struggled, feeling that really, he deserved it.

"Nice hex." He told the other man, who shrugged slightly. "You'd be a great Auror, you have amazing reflexes."

"Yeah, except that whole 'protecting the masses' thing." Nott explained. "It'd be too tempting to just mess with them all the time."

Harry laughed, not sure whether that was a joke or not. He wasn't sure he liked Nott, but he definitely liked being on Nott's good side.

----------

To be continued…


	31. Chapter 31

Shades of Truth

Chapter 31

----------

Harry tried not to grimace as he entered the shop, but ever since his disastrous date with Cho Chang, he had never again willingly entered Madam Puddifoot's. It was a measure of how much he wanted things to work between Draco and himself that he was willing to meet Narcissa there. He was happy to see no confetti or cupids this time, but it was still with great trepidation that he pulled a seat up across from the older woman.

"I hope you didn't wait long." He offered as he settled into the chair and looked down at the waiting cup of tea.

"Not at all," she waved a perfectly manicured hand at him. "I've ordered cake, and the tea has just arrived. Earl Grey, I thought, would raise no objections."

"Sounds nice. Sna—I mean, _he_ used to make this." Harry took a sip. "I hope you two are well?"

"Quite happy, thank you." Narcissa smiled slightly, dropping two lumps of sugar in her tea. "He is an expert at being unobtrusively thoughtful. I often find things set out for me just as I like, and if I did not know better, I would simply think the house elves are working harder. Did you know he could cook?"

"Yes, he would make meals quite often when we lived together." Harry told her as their cake arrived. "I gather that he grew up doing it, as I did."

"Really?" Narcissa's eyebrows lifted slightly. "I was always hopeless in that realm. My mother told me I would need to marry someone who had house elves or my family would starve. I sometimes forget that not everyone was raised as I was…" she took a dainty bite of the small cake in front of her that looked more like a decoration than a piece of food. "May I be frank with you?"

"Please," Harry took a bite of his own cake and had to fight back a grimace at the overpowering sweetness of the confection.

"I'm sure you remember my…initial reaction to the news of your relationship with Draco," she began, and Harry nodded, drinking his tea. "I want you to know, I am not usually as impulsive as that, and some of the things I said were quite uncalled for. I know that I cannot be the only person in the Wizarding world who had expressed opposition to this, but I realize in retrospect that of all people, I should be the first to support Draco. It is bad enough he has to struggle to be treated as a normal wizard without my own ill-advised reaction going against him." She paused, looking up at Harry.

"I love Draco. He is my only child, and my only living family. And it is plain to me that you love him as well. It is not in me to deny Draco something he wants as badly as this, and he clearly loves you dearly, in a way I once wondered if he could ever love anyone. He shows himself more honestly to you than he does even to me, from the accidental glimpses I have had of your shared confidences. Please, I am entrusting my son to you. Do better than I have to make sure he has everything he needs to be happy." She poked slightly disconsolately at her cake. "You cannot force the rest of the Wizarding world to treat him like a normal person at all times, but I gather that at least your presence with him in public shields him from the worst of their discrimination. Please, stay with him."

"I fully intend to stay with him as long as he'll have me." Harry answered truthfully. "Mrs. Malfoy, I know you and I have had our differences of opinion, but I have also seen all your efforts, misguided though some of them have been, to make his lot easier. When I step back and look at my relationship with Draco, how it's changed, and my relationship with…other Slytherins from school, well, it's amazing, isn't it? How people can change, how their feelings can change. And it makes me think that in the end, you and I aren't that different. We both want Draco to be happy, and I think you know as well as I do that he would rather we were on good terms with each other."

"I agree," she nodded. "And honestly, you have never done me a bad turn, despite all the old enmity between Lucius and you, or even Draco and you. If Draco and you can put all that aside, I see no reason you and I can't be civil with each other. And…even though…_he_ and you have become close, if there was any harm to Draco here, he would not support you so steadfastly. But he maintains…and after seeing Draco again, I must agree, that you and two are nothing but good for each other. You've done more than I could have hoped to help heal him…his past being…as it is. And even when the way was ambiguous, and he doubted whether he deserved to be free, you have always stood behind him, and taught him to believe in himself once more. He may never forget, but as long as he is happy…that is all I want."

"Me as well." Harry nodded sharply, and when she raised her cup, he imitated her.

"My blessings to you," she intoned, no less regal for the tears shining in her crystal blue eyes. "May the two of you live happily ever after."

"To you as well," Harry smiled, and they both drank. Perhaps he would always feel the need to be on his best behavior around her, but at least they could get along.

"And…may I ask you one, small favor, Harry?" she asked, and he couldn't place what it was that changed in her demeanor, but she suddenly seemed more approachable, more casual. Friendly, even.

"Yes?"

"Call me Narcissa."

----------

"Oh, that's _it_." Draco yanked the comb out of Harry's hands. "_I'm_ doing your hair. You look a fool."

"I've been taking care of myself for a long time, in case you didn't notice." Harry grumbled, resigning himself to letting Draco do what he felt was best.

"I _did_ notice, but I do a better job." Draco dropped a conciliatory kiss on the tip of Harry's nose, his attention all on the task at hand. "At least you did your tie right this time. I should give you some sort of reward…" he leaned forward, whispering something in Harry's ear that made the other man flush brilliantly red and suddenly forget to complain. "There," Draco set down the comb, "you're perfect."

"No," Harry leaned in, trying to catch the other man's lips as he reached forward, "You are."

"I won't be if you mess up my hair with your constant snogging." Draco ducked out of the way. "Come on, Hermione won't ever forgive you if we're late."

"I'm nervous." Harry admitted then. "What if…what if you guys…what if you never get along? What if every holiday, I have to split my time between you because I can't get you in the same room without you hexing each other?"

"You mean Weasley?" Draco wrapped his arms around the other man.

"And his family." Harry pushed down the knot in his throat. "I just want…I wish it were easier."

"If we could just do everything easily, we would never appreciate how sweet something like this can be." Draco told him softly. "Today is just another day. And even if things don't go well, we'll have more opportunities. You've done everything you could to get close to my friends and my mother. I'll try for you, as well. I love you, and if they don't want you to be miserable, they'll learn to put up with me."

Harry laughed. "You make it sound…like you can threaten them into it or something."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," Draco's voice was grim. Harry desperately hoped he was joking.

"George Weasley will be there, now he's out of St. Mungo's." Harry tried a different tack. "He'll never be the same, of course, but at least he knows who he is and what's going on around him now."

"If you're going to ask me to tell the Weasleys I recovered their erstwhile sibling, the answer is _still_ no." Draco slipped his fingers into Harry's hand and offered a tight, clearly nervous smile. "Let's just go."

"Okay," Harry relented as they left the house together, preparing to Apparate. "But if you'd only let _me_ tell, they might be a little more…"

"_No!_" Draco pulled him into an alley, and they disappeared with a loud crack, reappearing on the lower edge of a grassy cliff overlooking the sea. "Lovely area. It never ceases to amaze me," Draco breathed in deeply, surveying below them, where scurrying people were preparing the reception at the base, and then above them, where an aisle cut cleanly through the seating area, leading to the highest point of the overhang. "Hermione has excellent taste in all things but one."

"Please don't give Ron a bad time today." Harry admonished as they walked up the path to where many people were already waiting. "I really want things to be better between you two."

"I know, I know." Draco sighed, "Just trying to get it out of my system beforehand. "Ah, look, there's Pansy and Nott." He waved at his friends, already seated in the top area before turning back to Harry. "By the by, I almost forgot, Blaise is coming for dinner next week."

"That's fine," Harry nodded as they reached the main area, continuing to where Pansy was blowing them ostentatious kisses. "How is he?"

"Ask him for yourself." Draco pointed, and Harry spotted the good-looking ma across the way with Parvati Patil on his arm.

"Still with the twins?" Harry asked. "What's he going to do if Padma turns up?"

"Who knows, but it should be entertaining." Draco shrugged. They reached Pansy, who leapt up and hugged them both, complimenting them extravagantly while Nott remained seated, looking distinctly aggrieved and clutching a flask. At once, Pansy and Draco struck up a speculative conversation, wonder just how exciting things might be if this was not only a wedding, but a confrontation between the Patils and Blaise.

"Harry! There you are, mate!" Ron rushed over and gave him a quick, one-armed hug. "It's time to start. Er…hello, Slytherins…" Ron looked over the people near Harry with slight discomfort.

"Please, don't hurt yourself." Pansy rolled her eyes. Ron and Harry rushed away and Draco sat down for the ceremony. It was rather simple, rather swift, and the highlight was certainly Hermione in her gown. Pansy began to tear up, wondering in a whisper whether she'd ever be able to be a bride like that, to which Draco squeezed her shoulder encouragingly, and Nott snorted, plugging away at his flask determinedly.

After the wedding, there was food, and then dancing, and as things started to wind down, Draco found himself on the sidelines, not feeling left out, just watching with warm satisfaction as Pansy discarded Nott as a bad job and had her fourth dance with Harry, both of them discussing who-knows-what as he led her around the grass inexpertly.

"Now _there's_ something I'd have to see to believe." Ron's voice startled him out of his reverie, and he nearly spilled his drink down his front. "Sorry," Ron shrugged sheepishly, "didn't mean to sneak up on you or anything."

"Not at all," Draco relaxed after being sure there was not a spot on his nice dress robes. "Did you mean Pansy and Harry?" he returned to Ron's opening statement.

"I guess all of this." Ron answered. "Weird, the way things turn out. I never though I'd be the first of my brothers to be married, and honestly, I don't know how I got Hermione to agree to it in the first place."

With supreme effort, Draco held back the flood of snappy insults that cropped up in his mind immediately. He watched Harry laughing at something Pansy had said and felt a wave of contentment wash over him. "Congratulations, by the way. Her dress is just…"

"Isn't it?" Ron's eyes went to half mast as he watched Hermione, currently dancing with Bill, who was smiling so brightly it was as if the last ten years had been erased from all of their minds. "We're very lucky, you and I, aren't we? Harry's too good for you, Hermione's too good for me, but somehow they've decided out of everyone they could choose from…"

"I know," Draco's voice was soft, and he was shocked to realize, sincere. "Harry says it isn't about deserving anything. He says we can't choose who we love."

"Harry thinks he's clueless when it comes to this stuff, but I wish I had his insight." Ron sighed, turning and analyzing Draco's calm profile. "I've been meaning to tell you, thanks. For finding Fred."

"I…you're welcome." Draco turned to look at the tall redhead, and Ron was briefly gratified to see a flit of surprise in his normally schooled features. "Who told you?"

"No one, I worked it out on my own." Ron answered. "Look, I've given you a lot of grief over the years. And after what you did to your father, I don't know…but I can't really say what it's like, can I? We're both wizards, but we grew up so differently, and your father was…"

"Vile and twisted?" Draco finished.

"Yeah, I guess, a bit." Ron turned to watch the dancing again and Draco copied him. "Well, that's not to say that I think you've never done anything wrong, but I've made so many mistakes…and Harry loves you. All this time I've been with Hermione, we hoped Harry could find someone that would make him as happy as we are, someone that would make that whole war seem worth it to him. I never guessed you would be the person, but I want Harry to be happy."

"We'll probably never be friends." Draco admitted. "The history, you know."

"Bollocks to history." Ron snorted. "Stranger things have happened. Look at Harry and you."

"Let's just not fight all the time." Draco suggested. "For his sake, if nothing else."

"Good plan." Ron smiled at him, and Draco let a very small grin of his own make an appearance before he found his arms full of Pansy.

"Draco! Harry says he's too tired for another turn around the floor. Will you dance with me?" she batted her lashes at him shamelessly and Draco privately wondered how much champagne she'd already had. He turned to offer Ron a parting shot, but the groom had already been taken out to the floor by Hermione herself whose face was set in the grim determination of one who would be happy if they could go just one song without Ron stepping on her feet.

Harry watched Draco with Pansy while he rested, sitting down next to a progressively more drunken Nott who seemed to have exhausted his first flask and then, as though by magic, produced a second one and carried on with his drinking. Harry wondered how much future there could be for Theodore and Pansy, if he was in a state of constant inebriation just so that he could stand her company, but then it struck him that Nott might actually like her. After all, he'd been with Lavender Brown, and there was no way Pansy could be more aggravating than that. Perhaps Nott was merely trying to maintain a front of being an unwilling party to her company. And that's when Harry realized that despite the amount of flask-swigging he'd witnessed that day, Nott actually seemed pretty lucid, and he didn't smell at all like alcohol. Choking in surprise at this epiphany, Harry pretended to simply have swallowed his drink wrong and hurried away from Nott's glares of suspicion, finding sanctuary by the food, where he accidentally knocked someone's plates from their hands as he struggled not to start laughing where Nott could see him.

"Oh! I'm sorry, I—" he looked up and found himself face to face with Padma Patil. At first, he thought he'd mistaken her sister for her, but no, he could see Parvati and Blaise dancing across the way. Hurriedly, he fixed his eyes on Padma's face as though this would prevent her from seeing what he had just seen.

"Hello, Harry," she smiled warmly at him. "I haven't seen you in a long time. How have you been?"

_Good, but Blaise is dating you and your sister at the same time, so you're probably not so good._ Harry tried desperately to will away any thoughts of Blaise's infidelity, somehow suddenly convinced that Padma could almost certainly be a master of Legilimency, and it would be no trouble for her to divine what was going on if he even let his mind wander in that direction. _That's stupid, if she can read minds, how would Blaise have been able to fool her for so long! Just calm down, and don't say anything stupid._ "I've…I've been good."

"Are you okay?" Padma frowned at him, taking in the cold sweat on his forehead and clearly wondering if he was feeling well. "You look like you're going to be sick."

"Blaise is cheating on you with your sister!" Harry couldn't believe he'd said it even after the words came out. Surely she must be some sort of Legilimens to make him admit it so quickly. He had underestimated her, to his detriment. "I mean…I'm…a little tired." He wildly hoped that maybe he had dreamed saying that, and that she will not have heard it. But no such luck.

"Oh, yes, I saw that he brought her." Beyond all probability, Padma turned and looked over at the dancing couple and Harry watched in utter confusion as the girls waved at each other, Blaise still completely oblivious to the situation. "I told her I'd come and pretend not to see them, but make sure he saw me. The sex is always much better when he just escapes being caught."

Harry was dumbfounded. She knew? And she wasn't infuriated? She sounded like she'd known for a long time, and that Parvati had as well. He would _never_ understand women. "Oh." Was all he could think to say, feeling rather foolish.

"I see," Padma smiled warmly at him again. "You thought we didn't know? No, we've been keen to his game from day one. But he's just such an excellent lay…and when we realized that it was the whole cheating thing that kept him interested, we decided that it would be best to continue this way." She set about filling a new plate with food. "It's sweet of you to be honest with me, though. I know that something like this can't last forever, but if he has to have another woman, I'd want it to be her, and she feels the same way. We love him, and we know he'll figure out what we're doing eventually, but who knows? Maybe he'll grow up one day and learn how to settle down. Until then, I plan to have sex with him as much as possible. Honestly, he's a fantastic lay. Tell Draco he missed the boat on that one."

"Ah…"

"Not to make you jealous or anything." Padma patted his arm in a friendly manner. "I'm sure you keep him satisfied."

"I…have to go." Harry turned to escape and heaved a sigh of relief when after ten steps, he was intercepted by the person he most wanted to see that moment. Draco met his wild gaze with a calm grey stare and was clearly about to ask what was the matter when Harry grabbed the sides of his face and kissed him desperately, almost brutally, ignoring everyone around them and everything taking place around them.

"What…was that for?" Draco was clearly taken by surprise, his normally shielded eyes flooding with warmth as they pulled apart before he could school his features into his Public Face.

"I just needed you." Harry answered simply and realized it was the truth. "Are you danced out yet? I'm ready to leave."

"Ah, sure." Draco straightened himself, pushing away the flush that had sprung to his cheeks, unaware that his lips looked so thoroughly kissed that no one could really be fooled in any case. "Let's just say our goodbyes."

"Right," Harry found himself impatient with Draco's propriety as they filtered through the crowd, telling his friends that they had to be going. And then Draco insisted on saying goodbye to Hermione and Ron, which made sense to Harry, but also to the rest of the Weasleys present, which completely flabbergasted him, something he voiced as they left the area finally.

"I thought you hated them." Harry pointed out.

"They're like family to you, they can't be that bad." Draco responded, his fingers woven comfortingly through Harry's. "You put up with my mother."

"She's your mother," Harry flushed slightly. "You don't have to force yourself—"

"Hey," Draco turned, stopping them both in their tracks. "Isn't that what you want? For us to get along?" Harry was so surprised by this bit of insight that he just nodded dumbly. "Think of all the things we've been through since when we first met, and look at us now. Do you really think I can't put aside my father's stupid animosity and give them a chance? You get along with all my friends, and you would probably never have even talked to them again if it wasn't because you wanted me to be happy. I don't deserve it, but it _does_ make me happy to see you get along so well. I want you to be as happy with me as I am with you, and I'll do anything to give you that."

"I…I love you," Harry could feel tears pricking at the back of his eyes, but that wasn't as immediate as another feeling heating his stomach and making his fingers itch for Draco's skin. "Thank you for that…for everything."

"Let's just go home." Draco leaned over and kissed Harry lightly on the lips before they both Disapparated, still only halfway down the hill, startling quite a few people in their hurry to get somewhere more private.

Ten minutes later they were giggling breathlessly as Harry closed the door around Draco, who was tugging at his robes in an attempt to expose his skin. Harry finally managed his task and went to work on Draco's own robes, feeling it distinctly unfair that Draco had gotten a head start. He had only barely gotten one of the clasps open when Draco turned and ran for the stairs calling out, "race you!" over his shoulder as Harry watched his own robes flutter to the ground. Stifling his laughter at Draco's behavior, Harry shot after the other man, still wearing his trousers, but struggling to cast his shoes aside as he stumbled up the staircase.

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"_That's_ what I'm talking about." Draco spoke up breathlessly later as he fumbled on the nightstand for a wand to clean them up after Harry rolled off of him, completely spent. "That was brilliant."

"Mmph." Harry felt completely boneless, sure he would fall asleep in a matter of moments. It seemed like Hermione had been right. It _does_ get better. So much better. Not that their first time had been disappointing, but every time they were together, he felt like it was the best. Maybe that was because they were in love, and just being near the person you love is better than almost anything else in the world. He had no way to make sure that this would last, but lying here next to Draco, letting his hair be brushed out of his eyes and being kissed warmly as he opened his arms to snuggle close to the other man, he felt that if there was only one thing he could be sure of in this world, it was that he loved Draco Malfoy, and that he always would.

He didn't need the whispered words in his ear to confirm that Draco felt the same way, but it was always nice to hear.

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The End!

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Okay, all finished! If you couldn't tell, there is an uncut version of this final chapter as well. I was able to get the whole story posted on and it's under the same title and under my pen name (teresa) still, so if you want the uncut versions of chapters 24, 28 and 31, that's the place to go. Thanks everyone!


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